That You May Always Remember Me
by X-MENobsession
Summary: Ever since the Hero of Fereldan died while ending the Blight, Alistair saw her every night in his dreams. Until, ten years later, he sees her while he's awake. Will this be the dream come true he's hoped for? Or a nightmare that will drag all of Thedas down with him?
1. Prologue

That You May Always Remember Me

 _ **From the Fade I crafted you,  
And to the Fade you shall return  
Each night in dreams  
That you may always remember Me.**_

 _ **~Threnodies 5**_

Prologue

He saw her run past him out of the corner of his eye: a flash of hair, metal, and blood. She was darting, sword raised, straight for the Archdemon. He wanted to go with her, be by her side when it happened, or maybe even deal the blow himself, but he simply wasn't fast enough. Before the thoughts could form in his mind she had pierced the dragon. A deafening shriek and a flash of light followed. Alistair shut his eyes and shielded his face, praying that Morrigan had been telling the truth, that last night hadn't been for nothing, and that Elissa would live.

The top of Fort Drakon eventually grew silent and all present cautiously raised their eyes to see the scaly beast lying dead, but the other Warden was nowhere to be found.

Morrigan hadn't been fighting on the fort's roof, Elissa wouldn't allow it, and the witch disappeared before Alistair could forcefully shake an explanation out of her. Search parties were sent out but every one came back without information and Alistair's hope began to run dry. When the other Wardens eventually sent word they didn't question what had happened to the woman now being referred to as the Hero of Fereldan – they already knew. They offered condolences and promised that her sacrifice would be remembered.

Alistair only spoke of her death once: when he gave her eulogy. After that everyone learned not to speak of the legendary woman around the King. His advisors told him he needed a queen, and though he initially fought the suggestion tooth and nail, he was eventually convinced to marry Anora. After all, he had no interest in ruling and Anora wasn't half bad at it, and her presence at his side would only serve to strengthen his reign's validity. Anora had to be convinced of this arrangement as well, especially after the death of her father. She ultimately resigned to the fact that she didn't have many other options.

The wedding was lavish but the marriage was quiet. They mostly kept to themselves, eventually developing a mutual respect and maybe even the inklings of affection. Despite what Alistair had initially thought when the Blight ended, life went on, and it wasn't an entirely bad life either.

He would always see Elissa in his dreams, though: bright, smiling, and beautiful. At first he'd wake up feeling like he had lost her all over again, but he eventually began to see it as a blessing that she wasn't gone from his life entirely. It became the best part of his day. But 10 years after the Archdemon's death something happened. _It was the first time he saw her when he was awake._


	2. You're not real

**That You May Always Remember Me**

 **AN:** Reformatted! The more I thought about this story the more ideas I got, so I reformatted so that the average chapter is longer. No part of the story has been changed, so no need to reread chapters 1 through the first half of 6 for those who are up to date. Definitely more to come, and thank you so much to all the reviewers! It was a review that inspired me to update sooner rather than later.

 **Chapter 1**

" **You're not real"**

The first time was in the bathroom. Alistair was staring into the mirror intently while shaving his coarse stubble with a sharp blade when he thought he saw someone standing behind him. He flinched and turned to see who had intruded on him, but there was no one there. Writing the incident off as a trick of the eyes he turned back to the mirror to attend to the fresh cut on his cheek.

The second time he was sitting on his throne in the Great Hall, trying to pick the last remnants of dinner out of his teeth with his tongue. It seemed the entire Bannorn was packed into the room, whining about one thing or another. Alistair suddenly felt guilty. After all, the Breach and ensuing Rifts had done a number on these people's homes. The least he could do was listen to their impossible demands. His eyes passed over the crowd but darted back to a particular woman. She wasn't dressed in the same finery as those around her. She was small but muscular, stood quietly without speaking to anyone, but her bright hair was unmistakable. She looked up to meet his gaze and his heart suddenly leapt into his throat before falling into his stomach. All the air seemed to be forced out of his lungs once he realized he had locked eyes with the Hero of Fereldan.

"Alistair?"

The call of his name drew him out of the trance and back to Anora, who sat to his left and was staring at him impatiently. A few nearby nobles had the same expression on their faces as well. Alistair had clearly missed something. "I…" He looked back into the crowd but she had vanished. Surely, she had never been there to begin with. It was impossible. Expectant eyes still watched him and he swallowed hard. "I… agree with whatever Anora said."

This seemed to satisfy them enough, though Anora watched him cautiously a moment more before moving back to her work. He kept quiet for the rest of the meeting, scanning the room every so often, but never seeing her again. He wasn't sure if this made him happy or disappointed and was unusually aware of the heat in his face. He left as soon as he could manage it and raced to his room. Once there he plopped onto a well upholstered chair and leaned forward, running his hands all over his face and hair. He breathed heavily and slowly until he could no longer hear his heart beating in his ears. It wasn't her. It couldn't be. He was just tired or the fish he had for dinner had gone bad. It was cruel of his body to make him see something like that, but it was nothing worth getting upset over.

He took in one last deep breath, uncovered his eyes, and fell backward in his chair. That was the third time he saw her. Positioning himself on his hands and knees he peered around the overturned chair. She was standing in the middle of his room, staring at him. They stayed like that for a while, silently considering one another, until Alistair finally stood and took a curious step forward. She was different than he last remembered, but there was no mistaking her. She was dressed in leathers and furs, her hair was long and braided down her back, and she seemed older, though no less beautiful. Her eyes were the same glittering dark blue and they looked at him with a sadness he had only seen in her a handful of times. He took another step forward and reached a palm out towards her cheek. Her skin began to shimmer when he got close to touching it and he pulled back suddenly.

"You're not real," he said, only realizing how angry that made him when heard it in his voice. She frowned but remained silent, and he began to pace the room. "Of course you're not real," he mumbled, "You're dead." He turned back to face her. "What are you then? Why are you here?" She stared blankly back at him.

"Alistair?" Anora's voice called from the other side of the door, accompanied by gentle knocking. They hadn't shared a bedroom since the first night of their marriage, and normally respected each other's privacy enough to keep their distance when one of them chose to retreat to their own space. The fact that she was here now meant Alistair had acted even stranger than he thought.

"Come in," he called, resigning to the fact that she deserved at least a semblance of an explanation.

Upon entering she looked from his disheveled appearance to the chair lying on the floor, and then back at him. "Is everything all right?" He gazed back at the vision of Elissa, or whatever it truly was. Anora followed his eyesight and frowned. "Alistair?"

He turned to his Queen and quirked an eyebrow. He thought the presence of the strange woman would elicit some sort of response from her, but Anora simply continued to stare at him concerned. "I… You don't see…?"

"Alistair, what are you talking about?" Anora's patience was beginning to unravel. She looked over to the empty space his eyes kept darting toward and crossed her arms. "Are you sick?"

She couldn't see her, but he could. Elissa continued to just stand there, looking sad and out of place, and Alistair didn't know what to make of any of this. "Sick… Yes, that must be it. Must have been the fish. I think I'm just going to turn in early."

Anora nodded. "I can arrange for the physician to meet with you in the morning, if you like."

He stared at the floor and rubbed the back of his neck. "That would probably be good."

The two politely said good night, and Anora shut the door quietly. Alistair sighed and looked back to find Elissa had vanished. He was silently grateful for this, unsure that he would have been able to sleep with her staring at him like she was.

OOOOOOOOOO

"I'm afraid I don't see anything wrong with your eyes, Your Majesty." The physician held the King's eyelids open as he stared intently into amber irises.

Alistair sighed while the doctor let go of his face and began scribbling some notes. "Are you certain? Then why am I…?" He glanced over at Elissa who stood, arms crossed, in the corner of the room. "…feeling so strange?"

The physician shrugged. "There could be many explanations: an imbalance of the humors, exhaustion, stress… Sometimes the best medicine is taking a little bit of time to ourselves to relax." He looked up under grey bushy brows and smiled. "Surely, the king has more reason than anyone to be a little overwhelmed."

"I'm not overwhelmed," Alistair argued, then added under his breath, "At least no more than usual." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "This all came on so suddenly; there must be some sort of explanation!"

"Well, whatever it is, it isn't physical." He put his notes down and placed a hand on Alistair's back, ushering him off the stool on which he sat and slowly out the door. "Take a nap," he instructed, "take a bath, take a vacation. I promise you'll start to feel better."

OOOOOOOOOO

Alistair rested his heels on the edge of the tub and sunk his shoulders beneath the warm water. It felt nice, but to him baths were a necessity, not a form of relaxation. They were too quiet. He hated quiet. He wriggled his toes and turned his feet to see Elissa standing at the end of the tub, staring out the window. "How's the weather looking?" he asked. She turned to stare at him blankly. She never responded, but Alistair had gotten into the habit of talking to her. After all, she was always around and he had never been very good at keeping his thoughts to himself.

He studied her closely. Why didn't she look the way he remembered her? Why was her hair different? And her clothes? If she was a figment of his imagination wouldn't she look the way he always pictured her: with her armor tossed to the side, eyes shining, and mouth smiling? This Elissa was hard and sad, and she didn't look at him the same way the real Elissa used to. Especially at this moment, when there was nothing but flimsy soap bubbles covering up certain portions of his body. No, those dead eyes were not Elissa's, but what was she then?

She turned back to the window and Alistair stood, attempting to shake off the excess water on him like a Mabari. He stepped out of the tub, wrapped a towel around him, and headed for his bedroom. Clearly, a bath had not been the solution.

OOOOOOOOOO

"The Maker works in mysterious ways. Sometimes we don't understand his messages until we're meant to."

Alistair rested his chin in his palm as he leaned forward on the chair in the Revered Mother's office. It was a very rare occasion that he would turn to the Chantry for life advice, but he was desperate. Elissa, once again, stood by the window, watching the outside world serenely. "But there must be a way to interpret these messages, right?"

The priest tilted her head. "Perhaps. Tell me, Your Majesty, what message do you feel the Maker has sent you?"

Alistair watched Elissa, though to the Revered Mother it seemed he was only staring at the clouds. He recalled a lay sister he once met who claimed to have visions sent by the Maker, and how she was regarded as a delusional heretic when she shared them with others. He knew he'd be treated no better if he tried to explain that he saw his dead ex-lover everywhere he went. "No, it's not like that. I've just been thinking lately. What if… theoretically… someone saw something that wasn't actually there? What sort of advice would you give them?"

The Revered Mother folded her hands on her lap and spoke calmly. "I would tell them to pray very hard. It is only through prayer and reflection that we may find clarity."

And that's how Alistair found himself kneeling in the Chantry in desperate prayer, though it was mostly a loosely connected and completely off-topic stream of thought that ended in him realizing Lake Calenhad is shaped like a bunny. He was never very good at praying. He felt a shift in the area around him and opened one eye to find that Elissa had left his side. At first he was surprised the Mother's advice had actually worked, but upon examining the rest of the room he saw that she was simply moving toward the door. Hoping this might be the sign he was looking for, he followed her.

The Denerim marketplace was loud and crowded, but Elissa maneuvered through it with ease. Alistair thought he saw her physically pass through a few people as he attempted to follow her path, and decided that he would later have to add that to the short list of clues he had for whatever she was. Eventually, though, the crowd became too thick and he lost sight of her. He found an empty piece of wall nearby to lean on while he got his bearings again, when a familiar voice greeted him.

"Alistair?"

The King looked up to see Fergus Cousland handing the reigns of his horse to a stable boy and smiling brightly at him. He and Elissa had the same smile. "Fergus! I wasn't aware you were in town."

"Just passing through," the Teryn of Highever explained. "What luck that I would run into you. I was about to get some lunch, if you'd like to join me."

Alistair looked past him and spotted Elissa, moving toward the city gates. He wondered if he should try to solve the mystery of her destination, but upon looking back at the familiar and corporeal face of Fergus he decided that there were no answers where she went, but Fergus may yet have something to offer. "I'd love to."


	3. carrying her with you

**That You May Always Remember Me**

 **Chapter 2**

" **carrying her with you"**

Alistair never liked the food at the Gnawed Noble Tavern and he had a special distaste for its usual patrons, but his status granted him and Fergus a private table in a back room of the establishment. One of the perks of being king. He sipped his ale, which their waiter had assured him was the best they had in stock, but barely noticed the taste. Nor did he pay any attention to what Fergus was saying, something the Teryn quickly took note of and frowned in his direction. "Is something the matter?"

Alistair put his mug on the table but kept his hand wrapped around it, feeling the temperature of the liquid inside rise from the heat of his palm. "We're a lot alike," he responded distantly, staring into the copper-colored drink. "We both lost everything to the Blight, and now we're alone." Fergus sunk into his seat and his face lost all color. Alistair's eyes shot up in horror at the realization that he had let such thoughts escape his lips. "I'm sorry! That was incredibly rude of me to say out of nowhere…"

Fergus shrugged and took in a large mouthful of his own drink. "If you were anyone else, I'd agree, but you're right. We both lost a lot, and you clearly have something you need to talk about." Alistair licked his lips, but couldn't find the words, so Fergus started the conversation for him. "Two weeks ago was Oren's birthday."

Alistair wasn't sure what to say to this, but he was curious. "And how did you handle that?"

"About as horribly as I always do, but just like every other year it came and went and I'm still here." He took another long sip and Alistair joined him.

"I don't know if I ever actually came out and told you, but Elissa was…"

Fergus held up a hand to stop him from speaking. "You don't have to tell me, I know. Everyone knows."

Alistair blushed. All the times he had spoken with Fergus he never openly admitted what the man's younger sister had meant to him. It always seemed inappropriate. But of course he was aware; they'd never tried to hide their relationship while the Blight was going on and Maker knows he didn't hide his grief at her death. He looked over the table and Fergus smiled at him warmly. He was a good man; honest, compassionate, and he'd managed to earn himself a lot of respect even outside the shadow of his father's legacy. He was also the only one who might understand, which is what convinced Alistair to let the words out. "I've been seeing her."

"I already told you, I know you were seeing her…"

"No, I don't mean then. Though, at the end we were technically engaged…" Alistair moved past Fergus' surprised expression and continued, "I've been seeing her recently. Like a vision, or hallucination, or… I don't know! She just stands there and hangs around wherever I am."

Fergus grew quiet and examined Alistair seriously. "Is she here now?"

He sighed, feeling like the other man still didn't understand. "No. But she'll come back. She always does. I've talked to a doctor, a priest… I don't know why this is happening."

The Teryn scratched his stubble and considered these words slowly and carefully. After what felt like an eternity to Alistair, he finally spoke. "You loved my sister?" Alistair nodded and felt silly for blushing yet again. "What did you do – after the Blight and everything ended – What was the first thing you did?"

Alistair furrowed his brow. "My coronation, I suppose. And the funeral."

"And then?"

"I don't know." He huffed and slouched into his chair. "And then kingly duties? I got married…" he started to mumble. "There was always something that needed doing."

Fergus nodded. "Do you want to know what I did?" Alistair looked up slightly in curiosity. "I went home to Highever, I walked the empty halls of my ancestral home, and I broke down. For the first month I can't say I did much but hide and cry."

Alistair stared at the table for awhile. This level of openness was starting to make him uncomfortable, but Fergus' voice remained steady and when he looked up to meet his eyes they were honest and determined. There was clearly a point he was trying to make. "And that made you feel better?"

Fergus let out a noise that was somewhere between a laugh and a scoff. "I don't think anything can make you feel better after you've lost everyone you ever loved. But afterward… after it was all out of my system… I finally felt like I could return to the world and do what needed to be done."

Alistair let the words settle in on him, and was surprised to find how angry they immediately made him. "I've always done what needed to be done," he responded defensively. "And I already grieved."

"I'm not saying you didn't, but maybe there's more that you need to get out or sort through. Seeing her now… it's not normal, and you must know that if you've already sought counsel elsewhere." He leaned forward to place a hand on the King's arm. "I was there, Alistair. I remember the search parties you sent out, how quiet you were. Even now… She's the Hero of Fereldan yet no one dares mention her to you! I'm no expert but if you're asking my opinion I'd say you've been seeing her recently because you've been carrying her with you all these years. Maybe it's time to let go."

Alistair knew his face was red hot. He shrugged away from Fergus' hold and took another drink before slamming his mug onto the table and muttering, "Suddenly, I'm not very hungry." He left the Teryn sitting alone and tired and marched out of the Gnawed Noble, not realizing he was heading for the palace until he got there. He burst through the heavy front doors, thoughts racing through his mind. What did Fergus know? Who was he to be giving advice to the king? He turned quickly and came to face a red vase. Alistair had always hated that thing, but Anora was fond of it. With a quick sweep of his hand it shattered on the floor and the crash broke him out of his haze. He reluctantly accepted that Fergus may have had a point; there may be a few things left for him to work through. He started walking with resolve toward a room he hadn't entered in ten years. Maybe it was times to face a few of his demons.

Alistair descended the stone steps, grabbing one of the torches lining the walls along the way. It grew colder and danker as he moved further underground until he came upon two guards playing cards at a table beside a pair of doors. He coughed, making his presence known, and the men hastily stood at attention. "Y… Your Majesty?"

"Looks like a good game," Alistair commented lightheartedly. "Why don't you finish it upstairs?" The guards looked at each other, confusion painted on their faces, but neither moved an inch. "I'd like to be alone," the king added more authoritatively and the men disappeared up the stairs. Alistair turned to face the doors, took in a deep breath, and entered.

After the Blight ended what can only be described as 'Hero of Fereldan Mania' swept the country, and this resulted in numerous gifts being sent to the Crown in honor of the Grey Warden who killed the Archdemon. But anything even remotely reminiscent of Elissa either sent the King into a rage or quiet seclusion, so it was quickly decided that these gifts would be locked away somewhere out of sight. Until now, Alistair assumed he'd go the rest of his life without ever setting foot in that room.

He lit the few braziers on the walls with his torch and looked about. It was dusty and more cluttered than he expected. He began to thoughtlessly rifle through a pile of letters sitting atop an old crate. It included poems and songs written about the Hero and requests to interview the King for various biographies that were planned to be written on her life. Throwing the papers down he moved on to a corner of room that was hidden beneath a large gray tarp. Dust flew up into the air as he pulled the material away to reveal a few dozen paintings. He picked up the first one he saw and wondered if it had been drawn by a child. The next one was clearly done by an expert hand, but one that had obviously never met Elissa. This pattern persisted as Alistair continued to move through the stacks. Most of the paintings showed Elissa standing triumphantly and looking confident, and, though Alistair would certainly describe her as such, there was something none of the artists could seem to get right. Something in the eyes. These were portraits of the Hero of Fereldan, but not Elissa Cousland; all except for one.

Alistair was sitting on the cold floor, perusing the paintings and coming dangerously close to enjoying himself when his eyes fell on it: a portrait portraying Elissa leaning against a tree near a river and staring dreamily into the distance. The faintest of smiles was on her lips and in her hand was a bright red rose. Unlike all the others, this work was neither idealized nor grandiose. It was just Elissa, as if painted from a memory. He turned it over and found a message written neatly on the back.

 _To the other Warden._

 _All my love, L_

Turning the picture back over again, he stared at it for Maker only knows how long. Every line was perfection. It was Elissa as he remembered her: calm, poised, and with an inner light that only grew brighter the longer you knew her. A rare and wonderful thing amidst the darkness. An indestructible goddess. Elissa. _His Elissa._

And she was gone.

This image of her as he knew was a distant memory; a thing of the past. She had been too good, too brave, and too wonderful for this world. She gave everything to keep the people of Thedas safe, and as a result he was left alone. The room suddenly felt so much smaller. The air was thinner and he struggled to breathe. His eyes burned when he blinked. There was a force of emotion welling inside him and struggling to break free. He steeled his will, solidified his mindset, but then he remembered Fergus' advice and let it all loose. Tears poured out of him in floods, his body shook, his heart broke all over again, and all the while that painting sat in front of him as a reminder of everything he'd lost.

A gentle hand touched his shoulder and he looked up to see the false Elissa whose presence had plagued him recently. At first he wanted to channel his emotion into anger toward her and try to force an explanation for her existence, but then he realized that his tears had stopped at her approach. Her hand wasn't real, but it was somehow warm. Whatever she was, there was something about her that comforted him, and he finally chose not to fight it.

They stayed in that room of repressed memories until Alistair felt he could face normal people again and walked up the stone steps, painting in hand. He went straight for his office and hung it in on a wall where he'd be able to see the image from his desk. Taking a step back, he admired it once again. This time he didn't want to break down at the sight of it; instead, he smiled. Elissa grinned beside him, and he decided that maybe it wasn't such a bad thing that she was hanging around, even if he still didn't know why.


	4. here to help

**That You May Always Remember Me**

 **Chapter 3**

" **here to help"**

As a child Alistair never had an imaginary friend, but he imagined it was something like this. Everywhere he went she followed; watching, seemingly waiting, and sometimes looking like there was something she desperately wanted to say but just couldn't. He'd talk to her, but tried to make sure it was only when they were alone, and though she never responded he found that he was more at peace than he had been in a long time. Even if she was a sign of his descent into madness, it was looking like a slow descent and he saw no reason not to continue with his life as normal. At least until the Wardens eventually show up to drag him into the Deep Roads.

One morning he entered his room from the bath, vigorously rubbing his hair dry with a towel, to find Elissa standing at the end of the bed. This didn't surprise him, but the suitcase beside her caught his attention as he didn't remember it being there before. He walked up and peered inside, finding his clothes haphazardly thrown into it along with a few other personal items. Quirking an eyebrow at Elissa he asked, "Am I going somewhere?" She stared back, but there was an eagerness in her body language, making Alistair even more certain that she was the one who'd packed for him, though he couldn't even begin to fathom why. He shook his head at this newest strange occurrence. Elissa mostly just stood around and she'd never physically interacted with anything as far as he could tell. Not only was she capable of more than he realized, but she clearly wanted him to take some sort of trip. However, the beams of light entering the room from the rising sun reminded him that he had a meeting with the Denerim Arl very soon, and this would have to be sorted out at a later time.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

"Do you think I should have a nickname?" Alistair looked up from his book to Elissa, who stood in his office with him and failed to respond. "A lot of kings have things they're known for." He turned in his chair and threw his feet on top of the desk. "Calenhad was 'The Silver Knight'. What would I be… 'The Grey Warden'? No… something simpler. 'The Brave' or 'The Handsome'." Elissa stared blankly. "Well, I don't hear you making any suggestions."

A soft knock was followed by the door suddenly opening. He dropped his feet to the floor and threw his book onto the nearby couch to greet his wife. "Anora! Did you need something?"

She held out a small brown envelope. "A letter for you from Redcliffe."

Alistair took it and looked at her quizzically. "Thank you. I didn't realize you were moonlighting as a courier."

She wrung her hands like she always did when she had something to say but didn't know how to begin. "Actually, there was something I wanted to talk about." As she turned to close the door behind her and giver their conversation more privacy she caught sight of the painting Alistair had hung. "That's new," she commented, unconsciously frowning.

"Do you like it?" He rose from his seat to stand behind her and appreciate the work of art. "There's plenty down there. I could have one put in your office."

"Down there?" Anora's eyes widened in realization. "You went down there? To the room with all the…?"

Alistair attempted to shrug his blush away. "It seemed like time."

Anora stared at the stones in the wall just beneath the painting's frame, and eventually began, "I spoke to the doctor." Alistair grunted. "He said you're perfectly healthy."

"What a surprise," he mocked, moving to lean on the desk and crossing his arms. "He said the same thing to me."

Anora turned to face her husband. "But you're not, are you? I see it, Alistair. You stare into space, you've been running around asking strange questions…"

"Since when is curiosity a crime?"

Anora's face hardened. "People have heard you talking to yourself."

Alistair's chin dropped to his chest as he mumbled in response, "I'm not crazy."

"I'm not saying you are."

He looked up sharply. "Aren't you? Wouldn't it be just great for you if I lost my mind and had to be quietly taken away? You'd have exactly what you always wanted!"

"You still don't trust me after ten years?" Anora's hands were clenched into fists and her jaw was set and squared. "When, since our marriage began, have I ever attempted to force you off your throne? I'm trying to help you."

Alistair shut his eyes tightly and sighed. "I know. I'm sorry. And you're right, something is still wrong with me." Elissa shifted where she stood nearby, and Alistair suddenly remembered his packed bag. "I'll be leaving in the morning. I'm going to find someone who can sort this all out. I trust you can keep everything running smoothly while I'm gone?"

Anora grinned. "I keep everything running smoothly while you're here." Alistair rolled his eyes in response, and Anora added in a softer tone, "I hope you find your answers."

He nodded, while thinking the same thing. He couldn't go on like this forever, and silently admitted to himself something he'd been trying to avoid. Whatever this vision of Elissa was and whatever caused it wasn't physical, spiritual, mental, or emotional. There was only one option left and it was one he dreaded: this was something magical. He didn't like magic; he didn't trust or understand it, but right now he needed someone who did. It couldn't be just any mage from the Circle, though; he needed one who specialized in the unusual and unheard of. Morrigan was still missing and he had no interest in tracking her down, so that left only one other option. When dawn broke the next morning, he set out on horseback with a small contingent of soldiers heading west: toward the Frostbacks and Skyhold.

OOOOOOOOOO

"Is the tea to your liking, Your Majesty?"

Alistair stirred the brown liquid absentmindedly. "It's fine."

Josephine smiled and daintily tidied her silver tea set. She was well-versed in the art of entertaining nobles, but the King of Fereldan was proving difficult. He'd rode into Skyhold unannounced only a short while ago, demanding to see the Inquisitor, who was unfortunately not in the fortress. She offered him a place to rest while he waited. He refused. She suggested a hearty meal and a glass of Antivan wine. He turned her down. He finally agreed to a cup of tea in her office, and though she maintained a calm demeanor, she had no idea how to keep him placated once the drinks were gone. He refused to discuss his business with anyone but the Inquisitor, and she couldn't help but wonder why it was he had travelled all this way. He was clearly impatient, fidgeting slightly, and his eyes kept darting to the corner of the room. Josephine heard that Alistair wasn't like other kings, but she wasn't prepared for this.

"I'd really like to see the Inquisitor as soon as possible."

Josephine sighed and placed her cup on its saucer. "As I've said, Your Majesty, the Inquisitor is currently…"

The door to the Ambassador's office flew open and Viola Lavellan strode in. Despite being covered in mud and dried blood she walked up to Alistair confidently and smiled. "It's good to see you again, Your…"

"Alistair," he corrected quickly standing to meet her and shake her calloused hand.

The Inquisitor's smile widened. "Alistair. To what do I owe the honor?"

He glanced at Josephine, who immediately understood the implications of this look. "I'll leave you two alone, then." She curtsied before politely taking leave of her own office.

Alistair squinted at Viola's face. He remembered her dark hair and purple eyes, but something seemed to be missing beneath the caked on dirt. "Didn't you used to have…?" he asked, motioning toward his own face with his hand.

Viola scrunched her nose. "Yes. And that's the extent to which I'd like to speak on the subject."

"Fair enough," he said, lifting his shoulders and dropping them down again. "I… need your help."

Viola's eyes brightened "Straight to it, then? I like that." She moved to sit in Josephine's chair.

Alistair's tongue suddenly felt too big for his mouth. He turned words over in his head but they all had imaginary repercussions that he didn't feel like facing right now. 'Vision, ghost, crazy…' Ultimately he chose to simply point in the direction of Elissa and ask, "Do you see her?"

He knew the answer before Viola could word it; she was looking too far to the left. "See who?"

Alistair fell back into the chair in front of Josephine's desk, resting his elbows on his knees and dipping his head between them. "You know the Hero of Fereldan?" he asked, trying to form an explanation.

The Inquisitor narrowed her eyes and examined him closely. The last time she saw Alistair in Redcliffe he'd been… different. She impulsively touched her face. Then again, so had she. "I've heard of her."

Alistair peered back at the corner of the room. He knew he already seemed like a madman and didn't see any reason to keep his secrets any longer, so it all just fell out of him. "Well, I was in love with her and then she died. And I lived my life for 10 years, but lately… I've been seeing her. Everywhere I go, she's just… there! It's not her, though. Obviously it's not her… but what is she then?"

Viola looked back at the corner, still failing to focus on the correct spot. "You're seeing the dead Hero of Fereldan?" The king nodded. "How long?"

He shrugged. "A few weeks."

"Does she do anything?"

"Not really." Elissa folded her arms and Alistair wondered if this was a response. "She packed a bag for me once. I don't know what that means though."

"Does she say anything?"

"No! Like I said, she just stands there and stares." He glanced over toward his constant companion. "It's strange."

"Does she make you uncomfortable?"

He shifted as if his clothes suddenly itched. "The fact that she exists makes me uncomfortable, but her… She sort of makes me feel… better. It's hard to explain."

Viola nodded and leaned her elbows on the desk. "I understand why you came here, but contrary to popular belief, I don't have all the answers." Alistair's face fell, as the Inquisitor stood and smiled coyly. "But I do have a lot of friends. I'd like you to meet someone."

He watched her exit the room and wisely chose to follow. They left the main hall, descended the stone stairs, and walked silently to the tavern, where Viola continued to refuse to disclose their destination while climbing yet more stairs until they reached the top floor. A blonde boy in a large hat played silently with the air as the two of them approached.

"Alistair, this is Cole." The boy stood and looked at the king curiously from beneath the large brim of his hat. "Cole is… unique. He's part human and part…" Viola bit her lip and rolled her eyes. "spirit."

"Spirit?" Alistair asked, taking a step back. "Like from the Fade?"

"Yes," Cole responded, watching Alistair thoughtfully. "Just like your friend." Alistair looked behind him at Elissa, and realized Cole was examining her as well. "You can see her?"

"Of course. She's bright. Like I can hear her screaming with my eyes."

Alistair turned toward Elissa, who was looking back at Cole with an intensity he'd never witnessed before. "What do you mean? What is she?"

Cole took a step toward Elissa and shrugged nonchalantly. "She's like me."

"You mean a spirit of Compassion?" Viola asked. She looked at Alistair at if she'd had to explain spirits to many people before. "Compassion spirits are good. They help people."

"Yes," Cole agreed, eyes still locked with Elissa's. "She's here to help."

Alistair rubbed his temples. "So, let me get this straight. A spirit of Compassion has been following me around, trying to help me? Where did she come from?"

"The Fade," Cole explained in his usual simplistic manner. Viola shot him a look that he'd learned meant more words were needed. "She fell through the hole."

"A rift," Viola translated. She could see Alistair was still unnerved and put a comforting hand on his back. "There's your answer. I can open the Veil and send her back, and then this will all be over."

Alistair nodded and mumbled something as he followed the Inquisitor out the door and onto the garrisons. Cole and Elissa remained, however. He watched her with his large eyes and pursed his lips in anger that he couldn't understand her as well as he would have been able to had he not changed so much. "Something…?" he started, trying to piece together what he could of their silent conversation. "There's something more?"


	5. the Wolf Lady

**That You May Always Remember Me**

 **Chapter 4**

" **the Wolf Lady"**

"Thank you," Alistair said after a few minutes of walking in silence with the Inquisitor. "I guess I didn't know what to expect and this is all…" He sighed and leaned against the stone walls of the garrison to look over Skyhold.

Viola took the spot beside him. "I know people don't like spirits, but honestly they're not all bad."

"It's not that. Not exactly." He watched the members of the Inquisition mill about below him as the merchants hawked their wares. They seemed so small from this height.

"It's hard," Viola began quietly, gaze placed squarely on the tower across the fortress. "When someone you care about suddenly isn't there anymore."

"It's even worse when they show up again, and just when you think you've finally moved on." He chuckled, but it sounded hollow. "It knew it wasn't Elissa. The entire time I knew it, but I guess I was still hoping that whatever explanation I found might mean…" He shook his head. "It's not important."

Viola was a compassionate woman, but rarely showed it in her face. As a Dalish elf she had learned a long time ago never to appear weak, especially to shems, but something about Alistair touched her. Maybe it was the hint of desperation in his voice or the aroma of loneliness that followed him around, or maybe it was the fact that his loss reminded her so much of her own. The crushed hope that someone you once loved might return was a familiar feeling to her. The only difference was that Elissa died while saving the world, but Solas left out of choice. "It'll all be behind you soon," she said, burying the pain and steeling her face once more. "I'll send the spirit back and you can go on like nothing ever happened."

"Thank you," Alistair mumbled, clearly struggling to think of anything else to say.

Viola shrugged. "It's what I do."

He looked back at her, a crooked smile forming on his face. "It's what she would have done too. I'm glad there's still someone like that in the world: always willing to help."

"Are you comparing me to the Hero of Fereldan?" Viola took a step back and grabbed at her chest in mock shock. "From what I've heard that is the highest praise the King could give! Surely, I'm not worthy!"

Alistair's grin stretched as he turned back to watching the ground far below him. "Don't push it." He lifted himself off the wall and began walking once again, the Inquisitor quickly falling in step beside him. "Maybe I should just leave now. You don't need my help and I have to admit I'd rather not be too close when you tear a hold in the sky."

Viola opened her mouth to speak, but was interrupted by a voice calling from behind them. Cole raced across the garrison, thin limbs flailing and one hand keeping his hat from flying off his head. "Wait! There's more!" He approached them, panting but desperately trying to form sounds. "Go… We have to go!"

"Go where?" the Inquisitor demanded. "Take a breath and explain yourself, Cole. Just like we practiced."

The boy shook his head and continued to heave. "Tumbling, toppling, too bright to see… Sadness here. Pain to fix. Problems to relieve. It's all she could do."

"Cole!" He fell to the floor and pushed his head between his knees. After inhaling and exhaling deeply a few times, his breath became quiet, but when he looked up at the very confused pair before him the concern in his face hadn't lessened. Viola knelt in front of him and spoke calmly, "Words. That's all we need."

"I don't know how to use the words!" he lashed out at her, slamming a fist onto the stone floor. "I'm not like her anymore. Or she's not like me. Or I'm not like you."

"This is about Elissa?" Alistair chimed in, squatting down to be on the level of the other two. "I mean, the spirit? Did she say something to you?"

"Yes," Cole answered exasperatedly. "But I could barely understand it. And I can't make words for it. I just know we have to go! It's important!"

Alistair returned to a standing position and sighed. "It's just some strange spirit thing. You already said you can't understand her, and we can't understand you, so why should we…?"

Viola stood as well. "We can have horses ready within the hour. Do you know where she wants us to go?" Cole remained on the floor but nodded. "Then we'll leave as soon as possible."

Alistair's eyes widened. "What are you doing? You're going to let that thing lead us into the unknown?"

"She led you here."

"That's different! I…" Alistair rubbed his mouth and felt that his cheeks were a very unkingly shade of red. "I came to find answers."

"And clearly there are more to be found." Viola crossed her arms and stared at Alistair defiantly. "You were just saying that you wished there were more to this story, and now there is! Don't you want to see this through to the end?" She eyed him closely. "Or are you afraid of what you'll find?"

Alistair lowered his hand from his face as a chill went through his core at the thought. He stared back at the elf, bitterness mixing with heartache in his amber eyes. "I'm afraid of what I won't find."

Viola looked down, not wanting him to see that he had maneuvered past her shields yet again, but he could still hear her clearly as she said, "It's worse to not even look."

Alistair bemoaned the situations he had found himself in recently. Elissa was back, but now she wasn't, but she was comforting, but she brought back memories, but she was a spirit the whole time, but she wanted him to go to some mystery location and do Maker knows what! But there was a reason he'd come this far and Viola seemed to know it: He still couldn't let Elissa go and if there was even a shred of a chance… "Lead the way."

OOOOOOOOOO

Cole led the Inquisitor and the King of Fereldan to a small town in the south of Orlais. All of Alistair's dealings with the nation to the west were diplomatic and dealt solely with the nobility, so he was caught slightly off guard to see the true heart of the Orlesian Empire: farmers, crafters, and laborers who wore no masks except a thin layer of dirt and sweat. 'Gironde' was the town's name as he learned from the stablemaster where they paid to keep their horses. It was a quaint and cold place, situated on the edge of a large forest that served as the source of the village's income, judging by the impressively large lumber mill that loomed nearby. The people here were also clearly unaccustomed to visitors as every eye immediately and indiscreetly fell on the trio.

"Where is she?" Viola asked Cole, getting straight to business.

He looked out into the dark cluster of fir trees and pointed. "She fell through somewhere out there. Plunging, lunging, losing senses…" He opened his eyes and shook his head. "If we find the Rift, we'll find her."

"So she just wanted to go back the way she came?" Alistair asked, still uncomfortable with the pretense of this entire expedition.

Viola didn't pay him any attention, though, and approached a grey-haired man selling fur-lined leather gloves and boots. "Excuse me," she started as politely as she could muster. "Have you heard anything about a hole in the sky? It would most likely have demons pouring out of it."

The man laughed heartily. "Heard of it? Those demons have nearly driven this town to bankruptcy! We can't get into the forest for timber and I can't hunt!"

She folded her arms confidently. "Then it's a good thing we're here to get rid of them."

The man's eyes lit up but his posture remained skeptical. "If you can do that, I'll give you my best pair of boots for free."

Viola smiled. "And I would certainly appreciate that, but first I need to know where the Rift is."

"It's about a mile south of the town. Trust me, you can't miss it."

She scrunched her nose. "Only a mile? I'm surprised the town hasn't been attacked yet."

"That's because of the Wolf Lady," a voice came from behind the leather merchant. The young man stood from his tanning rack and spoke excitedly. "She keeps us safe."

"Wolf Lady?" This was the first time Alistair felt the need to chime in as he stepped closer.

"It's a silly name the children have come up with," the older man explained dismissively. "She's just a hunter that's passed through the area recently, but for some reason she's become something of a legend among the young'uns."

"Because she's more than just a hunter," the other man defended as if they'd had this argument many times before. He turned toward the strangers, eager to explain. "She saved me once! I was about to snag a gorgeous caramel-colored nug when this giant fiery blob came out of nowhere. I thought I was done for but then she jumped out of the trees and took the thing down with only two blows!" He turned to the older man smugly. "If you'd seen her in action you'd understand."

"That story didn't even have wolves in it!"

"We'll keep an eye out for her." Viola nodded to the two, who continued their argument seamlessly as the group left, their course having been set.

The woods were thick, but they followed the path made by the lumber worker's heavy steps over the countless years. Twigs and dried leaves crunched under Alistair's boot as he marveled at the towering firs around him. Though the trees were still and silent, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was watching him. He shuddered at the thought of what manner of creature it might be: a bear, a wildcat, or maybe even a demon. It had been a long time since he ran headfirst into danger. He was younger then, not to mention a few pounds lighter, and he worried that his skills might fail him, but there was no turning back now.

After a while of wandering through the wood Alistair stooped at a small creek. Tasting the clear water he found it refreshing and remained a few moments longer to watch as it slowly etched its way through the forest floor while he rubbed down his face and neck. He felt the air grow cooler and opened his eyes to find that a shadow had fallen over him. His gaze rose slowly until falling squarely on the image of Elissa, who towered over him, blocking out the sun. He squinted at her. She looked the same as the last time he saw her in Skyhold, though her clothes were a bit more ragged and her expression was filled with more emotion. He wondered if the trip out here had taken a toll on her or if such a thing was even possible for a spirit. Then she did something that caused him to nearly fall on his ass.

"Why are you here?"

She spoke! And that throaty, lustful voice sent flashes across his mind: arguing with merchants, threatening Darkspawn, sobbing in the middle of the night after a particularly bad dream. Suddenly he was examining her face more thoroughly. It didn't shimmer like before. His mouth fell open at the realization that he was staring at the living, breathing Elissa Cousland, but he failed to answer her question quickly enough and soon found his neck dangerously close to the edge of her sword.


	6. It doesn't make sense

**That You May Always Remember Me**

 **Chapter 5**

" **It doesn't make sense"**

"Who are you and why are you here?" she spoke again.

Alistair knew what she was capable of with a blade and that he should probably be nervous, but his body was still in shock. "I…" he attempted to respond, but what response would do?

"Wait!" Viola called, as she doubled back with Cole after realizing Alistair had fallen behind.

Elissa turned her icy stare toward the elf, though her sword remained steady at Alistair's throat. "You're not from here. What are you doing in these woods?"

Viola looked at Alistair who could only raise his eyebrows in return. He had no explanation for the situation he found himself in. "I'm the Inquisitor. We've heard there's a tear in the Veil nearby and we're here to close it."

Elissa's stare grew more curious than vicious. "You can do that?"

"Better than anyone I know," Viola answered, stretching the fingers of her left hand.

"It's surrounded by demons."

"I'm aware." The Inquisitor considered the woman closely. "I heard you've been taking care of them."

Elissa turned her dark eyes away. "Only the ones that wander too close to town. There are too many for me to take on by myself."

"Then we should work together. But first I need you to let my friend go." She nodded toward Alistair, whose mouth was still hanging open in shock.

Elissa bit her lip as she looked back at the man she had trapped. Her eyes wandered across his face desperately but suspiciously until she ultimately dropped her weapon and stepped away, giving him space to stand and gather himself. "It's this way," she said quietly and led the party off the path and into the thick of the forest.

Viola quickly fell into step beside Alistair and nudged him in his ribs. "Is that her?" she whispered.

He nodded, but couldn't match the elf's excited smile. Something was wrong. For the past ten years he'd imagined what it would be like if Elissa suddenly turned out to be alive and how that first meeting would go. He thought there would have been hugging, tears, and maybe some love making, but he never expected a death threat. He wondered if she was angry that it had taken him this long to find her, and guilt rushed over him. Surely he'd deserved the sting of her sword and the cold look in her eyes. His heart felt like it had actually been pierced as he remembered it: she looked at him like he was a stranger.

They approached a clearing as Elissa crouched low to the ground and the others followed, hiding behind the thick brush. Alistair squatted to her right and watched the numerous demons mill about the Rift. "Maker's breath…" He'd heard about the battles that occurred when the Rifts started popping up across his country and lost count of how many homes had to be temporarily evacuated and how many soldiers he'd sent out to protect the civilians, but he never actually faced the tears himself. It was one aspect of being King that he enjoyed quite a bit.

Viola laughed quietly. "Yes, I suppose this isn't a job for the faint of heart. Are you sure you can handle it?"

Alistair puffed out his chest and prayed that looking confident on the outside would make his insides stop tumbling about. "I once faced an entire Circle Tower filled with Abominations. I think I can handle this." He glanced at Elissa to see her reaction, but she had none. She watched the enemies intently.

"If we remove the demons, you can close the hole?" she whispered over the bush. Viola nodded. "Then let's get on with it."

Alistair was pleased to find that his instincts hadn't left him. He took down a wraith single-handedly and gave the killing blow to the Rage demon Cole was facing. He always kept an eye on Elissa, though. She was just as talented as he remembered, if not more so. She was quick and silent, like always, but somehow more brutal. Her tactics showed little evidence of the Teryn's daughter who was trained by one of the greatest swordsman in all of Fereldan in classical fighting techniques. Instead she fought like a barbarian who'd picked up her skills out of necessity, caring only for what moves drew the most blood and made for the shortest battle. He couldn't argue with her results, though, as he quickly realized the fight was already over.

He smiled at Elissa while wiping the sweat off his brow and thought he saw her smile back for an instant before something caught her eye. The spirit was back and slowly walking toward the two of them. It still looked like Elissa, and Alistair realized now why it didn't appear to him the way he remembered her. His eyes darted between the identical women as the spirit stood between the King and the Hero. This was the Elissa it was trying to look like, though that left a lot of questions still unanswered.

"Are you doing this?" Elissa demanded, watching the spirit and Alistair curiously and defensively.

"It's a Spirit of Compassion," Alistair began to explain before his eyes widened in realization. "You can see it?"

"Of course I can! I can see you too!"

"Oh," Cole breathed out as he stared at the spirit intently. The two seemed to be silently conversing again. "Now it makes sense."

"Care to explain?" Viola asked, but Cole shook his head.

"Later. She wants to go home. She did all she could."

Viola nodded and stepped forward, stretching her arm outward as her glowing left hand connected with the Rift. Alistair's and Elissa's eyes followed the spirit as it took the opportunity to jump through the hole just before the Inquisitor yanked her arm back and the Rift ceased to exist. The silence that followed was deafening. Alistair struggled to find the words to begin with Elissa. Should he apologize first? Tell her how much he's missed her? Ask how she survived and where she's been? As was typical, though, Elissa took action first.

"It's closed. I suppose you can all leave now."

Alistair's face and heart fell. "Leave? Elissa, it's been ten years! I don't care if you're angry, at least look at me and acknowledge the fact that I'm here, that you're still alive, that we're both alive!"

Her eyes met his and his heart felt another pierce. It was that same look, like she didn't even know who he was. "What are you talking about? Who's Elissa?"

"That's not funny. I don't know how long you've been living in the woods but don't act like…"

"I'm not acting!" she yelled, finally losing her cool, detached manner. "I don't know who you are! Or how long I've been living in the woods, not that it's any of your business…"

"You don't remember?" he asked in almost a whisper.

"I remember what it takes to survive, and I've done that for a long time without anyone's help. So please, whoever you are…" A flash of sadness crossed her face. "Just go."

That was one pierce too many as his heart shattered at the realization that those looks hadn't been out of anger. Anger he could deal with; he could find a way to convince her to forgive him. But not knowing who he was? Or even who she was? He couldn't even fathom a way to fix that.

Viola watched what should have been a joyous reunion fall apart in front of her, and knew she had to save it. "We can't leave yet!" She looked at Cole who stood next to her and went with the first idea that came to mind. He cried out and fell to the ground as she kicked the back of his knee. "Our friend is hurt! It's too far to take him back to town. You must have a camp nearby if you've been keeping tabs on the demons."

Elissa squinted at Cole, who rubbed his leg gingerly, and then at the Inquisitor. She sighed, making a mental note to watch out for the clever elf, and gestured for the group to follow her once more.

OOOOOOOOOO

Not far from where the Rift once glowed was a small clearing where Elissa had her camp. There were the remains of a fire, a thin bedroll, and a pile of poorly fletched arrows. Alistair gazed about, noting the lack of personal items, when he felt the air shift. Looking up, a pair of frightening yellow eyes met his from the shadow of the forest. He stared back, unable to move, while the eyes seemed to multiply until at least 10 pairs were staring at him. Elissa moved to his side and followed his eyeline. She giggled slightly and then let out a low whistle at which the eyes moved quickly into the clearing, revealing that they belong to a pack of wolves. Alistair's experience with such animals was violent at the best, but these beasts panted and seemingly smiled as they crowded around the Hero. One pushed its nose into her hand and she lovingly scratched behind its ear while explaining to Alistair, "They're good creatures. Just a little misunderstood."

He crossed his arms and smiled. She always did like dogs. "So that's why you're the Wolf Lady?"

"They still call me that?" She knelt and began rubbing the belly of one of the predators. "Wolves are smart. They work well with humans and listen to commands. This pack has followed me since I came to Orlais."

"And where were you before that?" he questioned.

She opened her mouth to answer, but then stopped herself. "Travelling." Looking around at the curious faces she had brought into her safe haven she shifted uncomfortably before tidying things that didn't look messy. "If you're all going to stay then we need more food." Her eyes landed on Alistair as she ordered, "Come with me."

"Me?" he asked, while the idea of being alone with her sent shivers down his spine.

"It'll be easier to catch something with more eyes." She pulled a fresh weapon out from its hiding place behind a rock and slung it across her back before stepping to the edge of the woods. Alistair looked to Viola who smiled at him enthusiastically and gestured for him to go. Following the woman he loved, he walked into the unknown.

Alistair was no hunter. His armor was heavy and he clanked and thudded with every move he made. His eyesight wasn't as good as he remembered either, and he silently acknowledged that Anora may have been right all those times she teased him for not being able to recognize a noble from across the room. Not that he would ever admit it to her. "There!" he called when he managed to spot a deer after scanning the forest from the top of a large rock. The beast darted off as his voice echoed through the trees.

Elissa laughed by his calf. "The first rule of hunting: never yell, 'There's something we can kill!' "

"I guess I'm not very good at this," he mumbled while jumping to the ground. The two of them walked in silence for a while before he stopped at a particularly large tree and hopped onto one of its sturdy protruding roots to scan the area again. He could see no life, no movement, and no sign of dinner. Turning back to continue following Elissa he found himself once again at the edge of her sword.

"Enough games. What are you?"

He swallowed hard and backed away until his rear hit the tree. "What do you mean? I'm a man." Her suspicious stare didn't falter and he felt the need to explain further. "I swear! I've got manly bits and… and bad breath and everything!"

She kept her blade held high at his weak throat. "Why didn't you go through the hole like the other one?"

"Should I have?"

"You're the same aren't you?" Her blade wavered as her eyes became more questioning. "What are you?"

"I'm human!" he yelled. "Just like you! You know me! Why don't you remember?"

She dropped her sword to her side and started pacing the forest floor. "It doesn't make sense. You look just like him."

"Like who?"

"Like the one who went through the Rift!" She lifted her sword again, though this time it was clearly an empty gesture.

"What are you talking about? She looked like you!"

"No!" she screamed. " _He_ looked like _you_!"

Alistair suddenly registered that the spirit had played on both of them. "It was a spirit. They can change their appearance…"

"That doesn't explain anything!" She pushed the blade closer to him and his back pressed further into the trunk. "I was alone for so long… Then that thing… you call it a spirit… it appeared with… that face." She watched the air in front of her and frowned as her blade once again fell to the wayside. "He used to just stand around. It was weird, but it was better than this. Now you're here and you talk and claim you know me!" She pressed her lips together and looked at him like she was struggling to hold something back. "Who are you?"

He marveled at how her stare could be both terrifying and intoxicating. She was scared and confused, and he couldn't claim that he was anything different. She demanded things of him that he couldn't provide, answers that she wouldn't believe, but after a moment of staring into her midnight blue eyes he realized that he didn't care about any of that. It didn't matter that she had just held her weapon to his throat, or that she didn't know who he was. It had been a few hours since he first laid eyes on her but it only just now dawned on him: she was alive. That one insurmountable obstacle that stood in the way of his happiness was suddenly gone, and all the others were simply trivial.

His eyes continued to watch her pink lips until, for the first time in such a long time, he lost control. He leaned forward, wrapped his arms around her strong body, and kissed her passionately. To his surprise, she relaxed in his hold, her mouth slacking and her body giving in. She kissed him back until, a few moments later, her senses returned and she pulled away violently. She stared at him appalled as her muscles tightened, and Alistair knew immediately that he had made a mistake. Before he could apologize for it he felt a sharp pain as her fist found his face. The back of his head knocked into the tree and when he could see clearly he realized Elissa had vanished. Licking his mouth he found the harsh taste of blood and realized she had split his lip.


	7. We're friends

**That You May Always Remember Me**

 **Chapter 6**

" **We're friends"**

There was enough wood in the camp that Viola managed to start a fire. The wolves laid nearby, watching her closely. Their stare made her uneasy and she felt like she was their captive. If that woman truly was the Hero of Fereldan then surely she wouldn't let the animals bring harm to anyone in the party, right? But she didn't look like a hero and she claimed not to know Alistair. Suddenly the Inquisitor thought it may not have been the best idea to let him wander the woods alone with her. She sat next to Cole on a log in front of the fire. "That spirit told you something. What was it?"

Cole fumbled with his own hands as he tried to find the words. "She fell through the hole."

"You told me that." The Inquisitor was growing impatient and Cole knew it. He inhaled deeply and explained as best he could.

OOOOOOOOOO

Alistair kept pressure on his lip, trying to stop the bleeding, but all he accomplished was getting his hand red and sticky. Dry twigs and leaves crunched under his boots as he walked through the forest alone and squinted at the trees. He was pretty sure he'd been here before. That bush looked familiar. Cursing under his breath he stomped forward in a random direction. The sun was setting quickly and he was walking in circles.

He stumbled into a clearing where a small lake sparkled in the last bit of daylight left. Due to the falling darkness he didn't notice that Elissa sat by the edge of the water until he almost stepped on her. She stiffened and sniffled, and he was shocked to find tears in her eyes before she turned her face away. What did she have to cry over? He was the one who got punched in the face! It was exactly that sting on his lip that reminded him to fight his instinct and leave her alone. He moved a few paces away and found some smooth stones to skip across the pristine lake while she stifled her emotions as quietly as possible. After a while, her voice, still laced with sadness, carried over to him.

"I woke up in the Anderfels, not knowing who I was or how I got there. I wandered helplessly until I found this tiny little town where this woman saw me and took me in. She fed me and nursed me back to health. When I finally asked her if she knew who I was, I realized that she thought I was simple. She took care of me because she pitied me. As soon as I could I left and walked until I reached another town." Alistair glanced over and saw her eyes still sparkled as she stared intently at the rippling water. "There, I worked odd jobs until I earned enough money for a halfway decent weapon and since then I've mostly lived outside of society, depending only on myself."

"You couldn't remember _anything_?" He couldn't hold back the exasperated question, though he knew the answer he'd receive.

eHe

She shut her eyes tightly. "I've gotten flashes, images, feelings, but nothing that offered any information about who I am or where I'm from. Eventually I stopped trying to find those answers."

A stab struck Alistair's heart as he threw the last stone in his hand and watched it plop and sink. She had been out there, alone and suffering, and he stopped looking for her. Of course she gave up hope; from her perspective it must have seemed that anyone from her old life didn't care if she was still alive or else they'd have found her years sooner. How could he have ever claimed he loved her?

Her voice stopped him from dwelling on his own guilt as she continued to explain her past. "I found the wolves just before I crossed the border into Orlais."

"And you joined their pack?" he half smiled at his own joke and noticed she did as well, though she continued to stare straight ahead.

"There were a lot fewer of them then. Their hunting grounds had been taken over by humans and many of them were on the brink of starvation." She laughed slightly. "We helped each other, I suppose."

He walked over and sat beside her, sighing heavily. "Why didn't you ever settle into one of the towns you stopped at?"

She shrugged. "I just never felt like I belonged there. I guess I was always searching for a place that felt… right." Her blue eyes finally turned and met his. "I still haven't found it yet."

Another stab, and Alistair had to look away to keep breath in his lungs, but he knew he had to push forward. There were so many questions left unanswered and for whatever reason Elissa seemed willing to talk now. When they had first met, she saw him as a threat, but now she was explaining all she knew of herself to him. He wasn't sure what had changed. Was she starting to remember him? Or did that kiss affect her as much as it had him? "You said…" he tried to piece the information together. "You said the spirit looked like me?" She nodded hesitantly. "Does that mean…"

"I remember you?" Her pink lips frowned. "No, I'm sorry; I don't. I have seen your face before, though… In dreams." Alistair inhaled sharply. "It was just that face… not doing anything, just looking at me and… smiling. I don't know why that spirit looked like you…"

"Because it was a spirit." Viola stepped out of the blackness that now surrounded the lake with one of Elissa's wolves at her side. The beast quickly ran to its master and began licking her hand. "You've been gone a long time," Viola explained. "We came to make sure you were still alive. I didn't mean to eavesdrop, it just sort of happened."

Alistair crossed his arms and watched the Inquisitor expectantly. "I won't mind if you have any sort of explanation for all of this."

The Inquisitor took in a breath and leaned her head back. "The first thing you need to understand is that our world is very different from the fade. Spirits who cross over don't always understand how things work here. Our particular spirit couldn't figure out how to communicate with us. But if there's one thing spirits understand it's emotion, and she apparently got plenty of it from the two of you." Viola looked at Elissa, who sat still and silently took it all in. "That's why she was drawn to you after coming through the Rift."

"She said the spirit looked like me to her," Alistair chimed in. Elissa broke eye contact with the Inquisitor and looked at his shoes.

"That's not unheard of," Viola shrugged. "After all, she was invisible to everyone else. They can change form."

"But why did it look like _him_?" Elissa uttered her first words since the elf had arrived.

"Spirits can access people's memories very easily; even the ones we can't get to ourselves. Some use it to trap people in fantasies or nightmares, but spirits of compassion heal old wounds, which is clearly what ours was trying to do. Except it didn't work and, according to Cole, that's why she went to find Alistair and bring him back."

"This whole time she was trying to tell me where Elissa was?" Alistair cursed himself under his breath for not following the spirit sooner, or trying to figure where it was she was always looking through the window.

"Exactly. The entire story isn't really all that complicated," Viola remarked. "Just a spirit following its instincts by bringing two people together. The real question is what to do now."

Alistair bit his lip, but quickly stopped when he felt the painful sting of his wound. Wiping away a drop of fresh blood he watched Elissa, and the longer he stared the more she began to change. Her long hair, which she wore in a messy but practical braid down her back, was suddenly as short and choppy as it had been when they first met. The ten years of aging and survival that marked her face were gone, and her hands were softer, like the first time he held them in his own. Regardless of what her mind failed to recall she was Elissa Cousland, and there was only one answer to the question of what to do next. "Come with me."

Her face shot up towards him, and his vision reverted back to reality. "What?"

Kneeling to her seated level, he spoke calmly but firmly. "Come with me. You don't belong out here, and maybe once you're home… once you're around familiar people and places… you'll start to remember."

Her blue eyes locked with his, but a wall stood between them that they could both feel. "I don't know…"

"You've been alone out here for ten years." His hand fell on her arm in an earnest gesture. It was unconscious but she didn't shrug it away. "Though I can't say I've had to go through all of that, I've been alone too. But we were never alone when we were together!" He bit his lip, once again forgetting the pain this action caused. "That doesn't sound right, but I don't know how else to put it."

Elissa's gaze wandered across his face. Alistair waited patiently as it crossed his jaw, mouth, nose, and brow, each stop loosening one brick from that wall. By the time she was done it still stood, but not as tall or strong and Alistair could sense this even before she responded with a hesitant and quiet, "Okay." He smiled triumphantly and rose, but she caught his arm before he could walk too far. "I just have one question."

He stopped mid-step. "Anything."

"How exactly do we know each other?"

Alistair's smiled vanished and he looked to Viola, who crossed her arms and shrugged unhelpfully. "We…" he stumbled. He didn't want to lie to her, but the truth seemed a bit much. She had just barely agreed to leave everything she knew and trust that he could restore an old life that she couldn't even remember. Adding to all of that the claim that she once loved him would only make things harder, or, even worse, make her change her mind altogether. "We're friends." It technically wasn't a lie, though she seemed to chew on this assertion a moment before begrudgingly accepting it and following he and Viola out of the clearing.


	8. where exactly are we going?

**That You May Always Remember Me**

 **Chapter 7**

" **where exactly are we going?"**

In the Orlesian town near Elissa's camp there was a ruddy brown horse at the stables. It was nothing pretty, but clearly well-fed and sturdy, so Alistair purchased it from the horsemaster and led it back to the group alongside his own stallion. He held the reins out toward Elissa, whose eyes quickly darted between the man and the horse. "We're going to ride those?" she asked.

"Fastest way to get around," he replied, patting the beast's strong neck. "Unless you've learned to fly in the past ten years."

Elissa didn't laugh or smile, but continued to watch the animal hesitantly, biting her lip so hard Alistair was afraid he'd see blood break soon. "Did I used to know how to ride one?"

"Of course you…" Alistair thought back to their travels across Fereldan - travels that had always been on foot. He remembered a time in Redcliffe when Leliana practically begged Elissa to use their limited funds to buy a few horses and save her poor shoes from falling completely apart. Elissa simply said they didn't have the coin and bought the Bard a pair of sturdier shoes instead, which didn't seem, to please her as much as her old ones had. Alistair was surprised to recall Elissa's expression when faced with the large animals then was incredibly similar to her expression now, and he sighed at the realization that it wasn't that she couldn't remember how to ride, but that she'd never learned in the first place. Without saying another word, he took the horse's reins and went back to the stables, leaving Elissa standing alone and uncomfortably with his stallion. He returned a short time later, somewhat agitated and muttering that the horsemaster wouldn't give him back the entirety of his coin.

They'd set up a small congregation on the edge of town, just before the woods began, and prepared to leave as soon as possible. While everyone else checked and double-checked their packs, Elissa sat alone, surrounded by the wolves that had served as her companions for years. Alistair listened as she spoke words of advice to them in hushed tones and smiled. If there was one thing Elissa was more compassionate toward than people in need, it was dogs. His smiled faded, though, as he realized that once she recovered her memory he would have to explain that her beloved Mabari passed away years ago. He'd kept it with him after she presumably died, but the poor thing would hardly eat. The veterinarian told him there was no specific cause of death, but Alistair knew it was a broken heart. He'd been surprised the same thing hadn't happened to him yet. "You can take them with you, if you want," he commented and crouched beside Elissa, reaching a hesitant hand out to the head of the nearest beast, which bared its teeth aggressively.

Elissa scratched behind the angry wolf's ear and smiled tiredly at Alistair. "They're wild animals. They belong out here, not in a city." The wolf whined in her hand and she frowned. "For years I thought the same about myself. I guess that's changed."

Alistair bit his lower lip. "I know they mean a lot to you… Do they have names?"

"Of course," she responded in a cheerier tone. "That's Flower, and Boulder, and Fuzzy…"

"What about this one?" he asked, pointing to the animal that had growled at him and was keeping close to Elissa.

She raised her other hand to cup the wolf's face and smile sweetly at it. "He's my favorite; always by my side, whether we're fighting, eating, or sleeping." She scratched him harder as the dog happily licked at her wrists.

"So what's his name?"

Elissa shifted her eyes before answering quietly. "Alistair."

Alistair stifled a laugh but couldn't stop the smile from creeping across his face. "That's a good name."

"It just sort of… came to me." Elissa looked up at him self-consciously, and upon seeing his grin, rolled her eyes and sighed. "It's just a name!" she argued and stood to leave the area, followed by the wolf. Alistair remained, though, smiling and laughing to himself as it dawned on him that she remembered more than she realized.

OOOOOOOOOO

"Put your foot here," Alistair explained, holding the stirrup in his hand. Elissa looked to the horse's large face and took a small step backward. "I promise you nothing will happen." He smiled charmingly at her and her feet shuffled slightly forward. Eventually, after much hesitation, one foot found itself in the leather strap. "Now lift yourself up and throw your other leg over to the other side." Elissa fearfully did as she was instructed and found herself sitting squarely on the horse's back.

"I did it!" she exclaimed at her small triumph, beaming down at Alistair. "What do I do now?"

"Nothing," he responded, and placed his own foot onto the stirrup, lifting himself to sit behind her.

She tensed as his arms wrapped around her sides to grab the reins of the beast. "What are you doing?"

"You can't ride," he explained. "So either we all walk, which would take about a thousand times longer, or you ride with me." She failed to find a way to argue with this and, after Viola and Cole readied themselves on their own steeds, the group set off for the Frostbacks.

Alistair rode as gently as he could while still keeping pace with the others. He watched Elissa struggle in front of him until she eventually developed a rhythm with the beast beneath them, smiling when he saw her gaze finally rise from the saddle she sat upon to the landscape around her. They had left the snowy climate of southern Orlais for more temperate lands. The ground was a mix of brown and green, but the air still chilled your bones when you sucked it all into your lungs at once.

"Where did you learn to ride?" His grip tightened on the reins of the horse as she spoke her first words since they set off on their journey.

"In Redcliffe," he began. "That's where I grew up." He had to remind himself that she didn't know everything he might assume she did. "I worked in the castle as a boy, but I was somewhat friendly with a young man who served the stables. He fancied this maid and used to beg me to cover his work cleaning out the stalls so he could spend more time with her. I told him I would do it if he taught me how to ride." He laughed to himself. "What a fool! She wound up leaving him for a Templar, but I got a lifelong skill."

"It sounds like he was in love," Elissa commented, watching the horizon. "Even after all of that, I doubt he'd call it a waste."

Alistair sighed and struggled to breathe in the sweet scent she had managed to keep in her hair. "Maybe you're right."

They rode in silence for a while more until Elissa spoke up again. "So where exactly are we going?"

"We'll stop at the Frostback Mountains first," he explained. "That's where Viola's organization keeps their fortress. After that we'll leave together for Denerim."

"Denerim." Elissa rolled the word around her mouth as she tried to find some connection to it. "Did I used to live there?"

"No," Alistair answered regretfully. "But it's where I live now. We can certainly arrange for you to visit your own hometown but that will have to wait until we get to the city."

Elissa nodded slightly, bobbing along with the horse. "So what do you do in Denerim?"

"Do?"

"You know, how do you make a living?" Alistair sucked in a sharp breath and Elissa quickly realized his reluctance to answer. "Come on, I don't know anyone there except you, and I barely know you. You can at least tell me what your job is." When Alistair continued to fail to respond, she smiled devilishly. "Fine, I'll have to guess. You have calluses on your hands." His heart stopped briefly when her fingers ran across his palms in examination. "Right where you would hold a sword. That and your prowess fighting the demons means you might be a soldier of sorts. They're old calluses, though, so a former soldier then. What do you do now…?" He ripped his hands away from hers and gripped the horse's reins tightly. "Nothing too ordinary. If you were a blacksmith, or a butcher, or a farmer your hands would show it. No, the only work they do nowadays is pushing a quill across some parchment. White collar then. A former soldier would only have so many options… You're too young to be retired. Maybe you've been promoted. But I can tell you're not experienced enough to be a general, and many lower positions would still wield a weapon fairly often. Maybe you married rich and your wife's father got you some easy job as a manager or overseer of some sort." She glanced back at him briefly and caught sight of his blush. "That seems to have hit pretty close. So what is it?"

"You're giving up? And I was so enjoying listening to you guess…"

Her laugh was the same after ten years and it lightened his heart to hear it again. "I admit defeat. What do you do, Alistair?"

"Well, you were pretty close…" He didn't like this; it could only lead to questions of how and why and he hated those, but she deserved to hear at least part of the truth. "I don't fight anymore. I mostly order people around and make decisions for everyone else."

"So a manager like I guessed?"

He shrugged. "In a sense." Breathing in deeply he finally answered, "I'm the king."

She snorted and lurched forward. "Sure, and I'm the Empress of Orlais. I asked a serious question, you know."

"And I gave you the answer. My name is Alistair Theirin and I'm the king of Fereldan."

She turned around as much as she could in her position atop their horse. "King? For real?" He shrugged again and nodded. Turning back to the horizon she sighed and remained quiet for an amount of time that made Alistair uncomfortable until she continued, "So how did I become friends with the king of Fereldan?"

"It's not all that surprising, considering you're father was a Teryn." She started to turn around again, but Alistair forced her to face forward because he knew an entire rant was about to be released from him out of sheer anxiety. He couldn't stop it, or the speed at which it all came out. "But that's not how we met. You're family was killed at the beginning of the Blight, but you were saved by a Grey Warden named Duncan. He took you to Ostagar where you also joined the Wardens, but then everyone died at the ensuing battle except for you and me. So we scoured the country fulfilling treaties and righting wrongs until the final battle against the Archdemon, where you slew it and seemingly died yourself. That's why I didn't look for you: everyone thought you were dead." He gulped, realizing that it was all too much at once, but couldn't stop himself from adding, "They call you the Hero of Fereldan."

"Oh," was all she said until they reached the Frostbacks. Upon entering the Inquisition's base their horse was taken away to be cared for and each of them were led to a room with fresh sheets and a warm bath. Alistair watched the stones in the wall as he sat in a meaningless tub of now filthy water and considered what damage he had done with Elissa. It was all the truth, but how much of it could one person handle at once? Surely he had said too much, he'd pushed her away, she was now racing back to the wilderness. Rising from the bath and wrapping a beige towel about his body he decided that he would have to present her with more than his own account and prove that she really was all that he claimed.


	9. what happened after that

That You May Always Remember Me

Chapter 8

"what happened after that"

Alistair found his way to the door of Elissa's room and knocked on it. She answered the pajamas Skyhold had been kind enough to lend her: a thin cotton shirt and tightly cropped pants. She smiled slightly at the sight of his face and moved to allow him to enter.

He stepped inside, holding forward the pile of books in his hands. "I got these from the library and thought you might find them interesting." He dropped the first book onto a nearby table. "This is a history of the Blight. It's one of my favorites; it doesn't try to make up any dramatized events, just addresses the facts." He added silently to himself the fact that this particular account never mentioned the assumed romantic relationship between the King and Hero of Fereldan. The second book dropped on top of the first. "This is the Chant of Light. I couldn't remember how religious you were… I figured it couldn't hurt." The last thing he dropped was two pieces of parchment that gently glided onto the pile. "These… Well, these are our wanted posters. I'm still not sure why the Inquisition owns a copy…"

This was the first description that made Elissa reach out and pick the item up. She unfolded the parchment and examined a depiction of her own face in aged ink. "I was… so young! We were criminals?"

"During the Blight the regent of Fereldan basically tried to make Grey Wardens illegal." He opened his own poster and examined the youthful face. "It was a long time ago."

Elissa's gaze passed between both posters. "Can I keep them?"

The tinge of excitement in her voice caught Alistair off guard, but he was more than willing to give her anything that would make her smile. "Sure!" She folded the posters gingerly and placed them in the safety of her pack. Alistair couldn't help but watch her all the while, and when she eventually turned and caught his stare his faced flushed red. "Try to leaf through these," he added awkwardly, patting the pile of books.

She wandered over to stand opposite him across the table and lifted the cover of one of the books. "Hero of Fereldan?" she practically whispered, purposefully avoiding eye contact.

"Not the name I would have chosen." The air fell still as Alistair realized the joke didn't land and a more serious conversation was to follow. He never liked those, but they seemed to be inevitable.

"So I killed an Archdemon and died?"

"Seemingly died," Alistair corrected. "Clearly you didn't actually die. Exactly what happened is still pretty up in the air but…" He gestured toward her and was surprised to see her smirk.

"I've heard about the Hero of Fereldan. A couple people in random towns even told me I looked like her, but I never thought…"

"What towns?" Alistair swiftly shut his mouth, aware that this wasn't a helpful question toward any of the issues that faced them now, but part of him still wanted to know. He had sent out how many search parties, issued how many Royal Proclamations, and received nothing in return, but she had been out there! He desperately needed to know what town in what nation was at fault for this so that he could rein terror upon them. Despite the fact that he wasn't exactly certain what that would entail. "I'm sorry," he swiftly apologized. "You don't have to answer that."

She shook her head. "It's just hard to take this all in. When I used to consider the parts of my life I forgot I just assumed it was more… normal. I guess I'm used to being nothing."

"You were never nothing," Alistair quickly cut in. "Even before you killed the Archdemon and certainly now." Elissa wrapped her arms around her front and stared awkwardly at the floorboards. Clearly she was uncomfortable with his declarations of her worth and he was silently glad he never went into further detail about their prior relationship and his deep, enduring feelings for her.

He was still thinking of a way to apologize and ease the awkward tension that had arisen when she spoke up again, "Don't Grey Wardens have special powers or something? Wouldn't I have noticed that?"

"It's not 'special powers' per se," Alistair shrugged, relived at a question he could actually answer. "We're a bit stronger than normal people, with a lot more stamina and a bigger appetite, but most of our skills involve Darkspawn, so unless you've come across any of them in your travels I doubt you'd notice anything." He squinted at her as she continued to avoid eye contact and recalled the familiar tingle he used to get in his skull whenever she was nearby. He didn't feel that tingle right now. "Our gifts are also stronger during a Blight," he explained to Elissa and reassured himself. A thousand more thoughts and explanations raced through his mind until he realized Elissa had opened one of the stacked books and was reading the first page where she stood. "I should be going." He moved to place a hand on the door knob. "Tomorrow we'll leave for Denerim. Whenever you're ready."

Elissa looked up and sent him a sideways smile and a nod. "Good night."

He left, shutting the wooden door definitively behind him. There would be a lot more to do in the upcoming days. He needed a good night's sleep.

OOOOOOOOOO

Upon entering his own room he was surprised to find the Inquisitor waiting patiently on the bed. "Alistair," she greeted calmly.

"What are you doing in my room?"

She stood and raised an eyebrow. "Technically all the rooms in Skyhold are mine… But I wanted to discuss something with you." Passing behind the king she closed the wooden door and leaned against it as Alistair watched her curiously. "Elissa," Viola spoke plainly, never one to mince words. "How did she survive?"

"What?" was all Alistair managed to evoke as he watched her cross his line of sight again to sit on the well-made bed.

"I may be Dalish but I know my history, and I know that every Grey Warden who killed an Archdemon died in the process. How did Elissa survive?"

Alistair gulped and felt his face uncontrollably change color. "Maybe they didn't all die. Maybe the others just lost their memory like she did."

"It's possible," Viola admitted, lowering her eyebrows. "But the odds that no one ever found them… I just don't believe it."

Alistair stepped backward at the pain of her accusation. After all, had it not been for a spirit he would have never found Elissa, but he forced himself to move forward, knowing he needed to deflect any allegation away from he and Elissa. He knew how she survived and had no intention of ever telling anyone. In fact, if there was one memory he could ensure Elissa would never regain, it would be the night he spent with Morrigan. "She killed the Archdemon; I saw it with my own two eyes! Who knows what happened after that! Whatever it was, it doesn't change the fact that she's alive and I'm taking her to Denerim."

Viola raised herself off the bed in resignation. "I'm not trying to question your authority. Believe it or not, I'm rooting for you two. But something here just doesn't make sense. So much of the Fifth Blight has been kept a mystery and…"

"It's over," Alistair spoke in a low, severe voice. "The Archdemon is long dead and we're all safe. Isn't that enough?"

The elf's violet eyes looked up at the king. "There's more to this than you and her. More at stake."

"But we're the ones who sacrificed everything!" He threw his hands in the air dramatically before they landed on his forehead and he sighed. "I only wanted one thing out of all of this, and now I have it. Can't that be enough?"

Viola watched him sadly as she left. "I hope you get everything you want, Alistair, but that's not going to stop me from asking the questions that need to be asked."


	10. a very Elissa thing to do

That You May Always Remember Me

Chapter 9

"a very Elissa thing to do"

Alistair had travelled to Skyhold with about five guards but he left them behind when he, Viola, and Cole went to Orlais. They didn't seem to have too much trouble entertaining themselves, though, as they were crowded around a table in the tavern enjoying a very rowdy game of Wicked Grace when their King returned for them the next morning. He couldn't help but smile at the sight as he approached them but the men were much less amused, instantly sobering up and standing at attention. "It's nice to see you've missed me," he commented lightheartedly.

"Your Majesty," one of them spoke cautiously. "Thank the Maker you're all right."

Alistair shrugged this off, getting down to business. "I need you to leave for Denerim as soon as possible. Let the Queen know that I'm alive and I'll be back soon… with a guest. So make sure there's a room prepared and everything. Something nice… and clothes! She needs clothes. I don't know what size…" He held his hands in front of him as if measuring an invisible woman. "She's small but she has a lot of muscle… You'll figure it out." He then waived his hands dismissively. "But don't tell anyone! I'm sort of trying to keep this all quiet. At least for now."

The guards nodded in unison until the brave one among them spoke up again. "Are you certain you want all of us to go? Should you make the trip back without protection?"

"Trust me," he smiled charmingly. "I'll be fine." He turned to leave, but stopped and held up a finger as he remembered something. "Oh, and one more thing: if you can contact Fergus Cousland tell him to come see me as soon as possible."

While the guards cleaned up their game and prepared to head home, Alistair wandered onto the battlements and looked out over the Frostbacks. Sunlight glistened on the crisp white snow and the air smelled fresh and clear. Alistair finally understood why the Inquisition remained so far away from civilization. It was quiet here; peaceful. He suddenly wondered whose idea it was to put his own palace in a densely packed city. A speck against the white landscape caught Alistair's eye and he squinted at the small figure. Her bright hair was unmistakable and without a thought he found himself climbing down the stairs and passing out the large gates to approach Elissa where she stood in the mountain wind.

"It's a nice fortress, isn't it?" He smiled as she whipped around in surprise at his presence, her cheeks red from the cold. "There's only one design flaw," he continued the joke, "in order to be protected from armies, Darkspawn, and raging barbarians you have to be inside it."

She pursed her lips and smirked in response, and he immediately felt warmer knowing he had amused her. "It's too crowded in there." She turned back to watch the majestic landscape. "Too many faces I don't know."

Alistair rubbed the back of his neck. "I know it must be difficult... but I swear it'll get easier!" He mumbled the rest, "It's just going to get a lot worse first."

"Do I know her?" Elissa asked, clearly lost in her own thoughts. "The Inquisitor?"

"No." He lowered his hand and folded his arms against the cold. "You've never met."

"But you two are friends?" Her eyes shot towards him and he smiled at the level of curiosity in them.

"It's new," he explained. "We only met once before I came to her for help with… well, _you_. I'm not sure you know anyone here. Not since Leliana left."

"Leliana? She was…?"

"A good friend. To both of us. She was working here for the Inquisition until she became Divine."

Elissa's eyes shot open at this. "I'm friends with the Divine?"

Alistair nodded. "And the Qunari Arishok."

"The King of Fereldan, the Divine, and the Arishok…"

"And a golem named Shale."

Elissa shook her head in disbelief. "I must have been a very interesting person." She sighed and bit her lip. "What if I'm not anymore? What if I meet these people and they realize I'm not the same me I used to be?"

"You are."

"How do you know?"

"Because I know you!" She seemed unconvinced and he added frustratedly, "Because of the way you protected those people from the demons. That was a very Elissa thing to do."

"Someone had to do it," she mumbled, making him laugh.

"And that was a very Elissa thing to say."

The pair grew quiet for a while as she seemed to chew on these words. The sun rose higher in the sky, its glow still soft and somewhat orange. Alistair almost got lost in the serenity of the situation until Elissa pulled him out of it.

"So… we're friends, right?"

His heart skipped a beat at mention of the lie he was forced to keep up. "Of course."

"I only ask because…" A wicked grin crossed her face and her eyes sparkled with mischief as she turned to Alistair, making his palms sweat in the cold. "You kissed me. That seems like an awfully strange thing for a friend to do."

"I… um," he stumbled on his words and coughed awkwardly. "I suppose I got a little… overexcited. Because you were alive and I… was surprised." He coughed again.

Elissa turned back to watching the horizon and Alistair suddenly felt that the top of a mountain was far too warm. He began pacing to distract himself, making tracks in the snow. Bending down, he grabbed a handful of the white powder and rolled it into a ball.

"Don't," Elissa spoke determinedly, and Alistair realized she had been watching him. After the moment it took for him to realize what she meant he grinned wickedly and weighed the snowball in his hand.

"Don't what?" he feigned innocence.

"Don't," Elissa simply repeated, backing away slowly.

Alistair shrugged and dropped his arms. "Fine," he said and acted as though he was about to toss the ball back to ground, allowing Elissa a moment of false security before he threw it right at her face. She looked horrified as the snow dripped down her cheeks, until her expression changed to one of amused fury. Quickly, she dropped to the ground and rolled her own ball that soon found Alistair's shoulder. The two then began forming as many spheres of snow as they possibly could and chucking them at one another, yelling, growling, and giggling all the while. Alistair's aim was better, but Elissa was quicker, and she managed to avoid many of his shots but only landed a few of her own on him. Eventually she gave up the tactic of throwing and began chasing him, a pile of snow held high in hand. He turned to watch her and tripped when the snow beneath his feet became particularly deep. Elissa, only a second behind him, fell to the ground as well. She raised herself and rolled over until she was practically on top of him. Scooping a handful of snow she proceeded to smack it onto his face, taking the time to devotedly rub it in.

He spit out frozen water while trying to breathe through his laughter. "You got me!" She made sure the snow dug deep into the hairs on his chin and jawline and he only laughed harder. He grabbed her hand to stop it from another assault and their fingers accidentally interlaced. Elissa looked surprisedly and slowly from his calloused digits to his dripping face. She wasn't laughing anymore; her expression quiet and strange. Before he could consider what any of this meant, she leaned down and kissed him. Her lips were chapped and cold but he swore he could feel her heart beating in them. Instinctively, his arm wrapped around her waist, holding her closer to him, and she didn't fight back. They broke, each taking in a deep and satisfying breath before their eyes locked again. Alistair feared he'd earned himself another split lip, but instead Elissa rolled to sit in the snow a few inches away. Examining the sun as if she'd never seen it before she said, "We should be getting back."

Alistair nodded, allowing her to stand and begin the walk back to the fortress without him. When he was sure she wouldn't look back he dug his face into the snow, but it did little to quench the heat that had risen inside of him.


	11. a bit too personal

That You May Always Remember Me

Chapter 10

"a bit too personal"

 **AN:** Sorry for the lack of updates! Having a full time job is great for my bank account but very bad for my fanfiction. Thank you for continuing to read!

Alistair waited patiently at gates of Skyhold, looking through his bag repeatedly while Elissa prepared herself for their journey. "Do you have everything you need?" came the silky voice of the Inquisitor.

He looked up and frowned. Their last conversation hadn't left him particularly pleased with the elf, but he couldn't deny that she had been instrumental in finding Elissa and the tentative noble in him forced him to be polite. "We should be fine."

"Hopefully you'll write when you arrive?"

Alistair stood, looking anywhere but in those innocent violet eyes. "I'll try." An irritated huff came from the Inquisitor, forcing him to confront her. "Why do you care at all?"

"I thought we were friends!" she said, loudly enough that the soldiers training on the nearby grounds stopped and watched the pair.

He took in a deep breath and stood to meet her gaze. "And we still are… if you agree to stop questioning how Elissa is still here."

His stare was determined and unwavering, summoning every bit of kingly might he had learned over the past decade, but Viola, never counting herself among those under the influence of human authority, saw straight through this. However, she still felt a connection to Alistair. He had come to her a desperate, broken man and was leaving with his greatest wish come true. She wanted nothing more than for him to know she was on his side, and so she replied steadily, "If that's what you want."

Alistair failed to hide his surprise at her swift agreement, but it was soon replaced by excitement as Elissa finally arrived, dressed in new clothes provided by the Inquisition quartermaster and with a leather pack slung across her back. "Are you ready to go?"

"I was just waiting for you," Alistair said, unable to wipe the smile off his face.

Viola turned to the Hero, a warm smile crossing her pale face. "Take good care of him," she commanded, and left to climb the stone steps of Skyhold.

"I'll write," Alistair called out to her. She glanced back with a smirk and continued on her way.

"Where are the horses?" Elissa asked as the two were left alone at the gates.

"I thought we'd walk," he explained. "It shouldn't take too long, and I figured you'd enjoy it more." She beamed in response to this and motioned for Alistair to lead the way, which he did happily as the two left the fortress and the Frostbacks behind them.

Upon entering the Main Hall Viola summoned an Inquisition member to her side. "Get me everything we have on the Wardens. I need to know what happened at the end of the Fifth Blight."

OOOOOOOOOO

Once they descended far enough down the Frostbacks the Inquisition scouts who kept constant eyes on the area around the fortress faded from view and soon they were within the legal territory of Fereldan. Alistair breathed the air in deeply, as though it tasted differently than any other. He never wanted to rule this country, but he had been devoted to it his entire life. "This is where I'm from?" Elissa asked quietly, causing Alistair to realize for the first time that she had stopped and fallen behind him.

"Born and raised," he responded and smiled handsomely, convincing her to continue walking at his side.

Her voice grew quieter as she asked, "You said my family died in the Blight?"

He swallowed hard. "Your parents were betrayed by a man named Rendon Howe. You… already killed him." He was hoping that last part would serve as comfort, but Elissa's frown persisted.

"Then why don't I feel better?"

"Your brother survived." This statement served to perk her up as her blue eyes stared at him expectantly. "His name is Fergus. He's currently the Teryn of Highever, like your father was. I've sent word to him and I'm sure he'll be very eager to meet with you."

Elissa walked with a lighter spring in her step after this. Alistair took note and a thought crossed his mind, a dangerous one that he couldn't stop from escaping his lips. "So… we're friends?"

Elissa raised an eyebrow in his direction as they continued journeying forward. "That's what you tell me."

"I'm just asking," he repeated her own words back to her, "because you kissed me."

Elissa's expression settled on that familiar mischievousness Alistair had seen many times before. "You kissed me first."

"But then you punched me!"

"Are you asking for an apology?"

"No…" Alistair thought over his next sentence. He understood that she had been startled and didn't require an apology of any sort, but an exchange could certainly be arranged. "But I should be allowed an equivalent response."

"So you want to punch me in the face?" The look she sent him almost had him bursting out in laughter.

"Not necessarily; a kiss for a kiss seems fair enough." He couldn't bring himself to face her after this bold remark and instead watched the Fereldan horizon.

After a few moments of embarrassed silence Elissa responded, "But then you would owe me another punch."

"Or you could give me another kiss…"

"And when exactly would this exchange end?" Their eyes finally met across the dirt road they walked upon and Alistair found himself without words.

"I… Well…"

Elissa's laugh was light and golden. "Then I'll be expecting that punch any moment."

OOOOOOOOOO

Eventually they reached a town Alistair recognized and he realized they hadn't covered the ground he'd predicted. Then again, it had been a while since they both crossed the country in a day to quickly solve one problem or another. His stomach audibly grumbled as his eyes caught sight of a well lit tavern against the setting sun. "Fancy some dinner?" he asked, and Elissa nodded eagerly.

It was a warm room, with a roaring fireplace and a few empty tables. Alistair and Elissa found seats quickly and a frazzled waitress soon arrived to take their order. "Druffalo steak," Alistair announced decisively as he glanced at the menu. "With your best bottle of red wine."

"And for you?" the waitress asked, looking at Elissa who was still reading the second menu item.

"Grilled Bronto," Alistair answered for her. "With a side salad."

The waitress took the menus and left to place the order as Elissa stared at her companion curiously. "So I like Bronto then?"

He blushed slightly at the realization that he had taken such control of the situation but grinned at her charmingly. "You love it."

"And red wine?"

"You prefer whiskey. Sorry about that." She smiled widely and Alistair relaxed. "I suppose you didn't spend much time in taverns while you were living with the wolves?"

"I've been in quite a few," she corrected, gazing about the room. "They're a good source of information about local jobs." She grinned. "And sometimes a girl just wants to sleep in a real bed."

"So then you've already discovered your love of whiskey?" Alistair joked, not expecting Elissa to nod in response. He felt a wave of unease cross his body as his thoughts passed over the type of patron a woman as beautiful as Elissa would attract. "And you've… talked to a lot of people there?"

It was a thinly veiled question that Elissa saw right through. "I've met plenty of men in this setting." She laughed quietly at Alistair's evident gulp. "But none were like you."

"That impressive, am I?" he asked, taking a swig of the newly poured wine.

"Well, you are the only one to tell me what my name is, but I'm afraid you're not the first to ask me to follow you home."

Alistair almost choked on his drink at this statement. "And you… you…?" He failed to form the words that Elissa knew he was thinking.

"That's a bit too personal," she answered, narrowing her eyes and lifting the corner of her lips. "For friends."

Alistair could have spent hours subtly working a more definitive response out of her but decided it would be easier for him to push down the nauseous assumptions he was making in his head and move on; at least for tonight. "So, besides trolling the bars for men, what did you do for fun out there in the wilderness?"

"Survival isn't exactly fun… There wasn't much time for anything else." She sniffed her drink and crinkled her nose slightly. "What about you?"

Alistair leaned back in his chair. "I like to read. Historical books, mostly."

Elissa sipped the wine cautiously and seemed to find it more pleasing than expected. "Reading, working, hunting, fletching… When did we both get so boring?"

He smiled and rolled his eyes. "Well, for me, it was around the time I got married." A crash was heard as a waitress dropped a plate in the back and the entire room seemed to hold their breath with Alistair as he realized what he had thoughtlessly let slip out. Elissa was frozen, staring at the candle on the table intently. It felt like years were passing between heartbeats before she finally shifted in her seat slightly, looked up, and asked politely, "So you're married?"

"I… It was…" The excuses were plentiful but just not enough. "Yes." He slumped in his chair, feeling mere inches tall. "I was going to tell you, I just…"

"We had a lot to catch up on first," she finished reasonably. Alistair couldn't help but remember his own reaction not minutes before at the mere idea that she had been with another man in the decade they were apart, and here she was calmly accepting the fact that he had actually promised the rest of his life to someone else. Maybe she didn't remember as much of the feelings she once had for him than he had fooled himself into believing. The waitress came with their meals and Alistair was glad to have something new to focus on.

"I look forward to meeting your wife," Elissa said, concluding the conversation. Alistair still didn't like the even tone in which she spoke, but when he glanced up from his steak the sight of her white knuckles gripping her knife with the intensity she would a blade made him grin. She couldn't hide every sign of the emotions twisting inside her. Whether this was anger at the mysterious other woman for existing or at him for lying, he didn't really care. She felt _something_. The evening became more pleasant as they moved on to lighter subjects, and when the food and wine were gone they requested a pair of rooms to retire for the night. As Alistair closed the door to his room he sighed deeply. Tomorrow they would reach Denerim and Elissa actually would meet Anora. The rest of his life would come crashing down on the tenuous relationship he and Elissa had managed to form in these past few days, and he prayed they would survive it.


	12. If you need anything

That You May Always Remember Me

Chapter 11

"If you need anything"

The Imperial Highway had changed from what Alistair remembered of it during the Blight. He vaguely recalled signing something saying that he would fund a restoration of the road, but it was entirely different to walk upon the new pavement himself. It was especially strange to do so with Elissa at his side. Sometimes he would gaze at the horizon and think about the towns that lie in that direction, what demands their leaders laid before him, and which he felt he could fulfill, but then he would glance at Elissa and all of that would fall away. Fereldan was everything to him, but she made it all disappear. She watched everything around them intently, sometimes asking questions but mostly biting her lip and wondering to herself all that she had forgotten. If anything, she belonged to this country more than he did: she could trace her lineage back hundreds of years and his stopped at his mysterious mother. Regardless, he was currently king and she was a stranger.

The city of Denerim soon rose on the horizon, and Alistair wasn't certain how to describe the lurch in his stomach. Maybe he was afraid of taking Elissa into such a forceful city when she still couldn't remember her own past, or maybe he feared that no one would believe he had retrieved the actual Hero of Fereldan. The sun had already set when Alistair and Elissa arrived in Denerim. The busy streets were quiet as their heavy steps echoed across the stone on their way to the palace. Alistair dreaded every step, knowing that their experiences on the road would mean nothing once they entered that place. He would be a married king once again and she would be… What would she be? He still didn't know, yet the decision was left up to him. The palace doors opened beneath his fingertips and he suddenly regretted ever touching them.

"Your Majesty!" The voice of Alistair's seneschal, Bran, echoed across the wide hall. "You're back!"

Alistair quickly noticed that the seneschal's gaze wandered toward Elissa more than himself. "This is El… a friend… and she needs a room." He swallowed hard at what an awkward liar he was. "The one I requested."

"Of course, Your Majesty," Bran bowed and led Elissa toward the room that had been prepared for her, though she was reluctant to leave Alistair's side.

The king began walking to his own room when he decided that there was someplace else he needed to stop first. When he found himself in front of Anora's door he knocked upon it.

"Alistair?" she asked, opening the wooden slab and clearly surprised at his appearance.

"I'm back," he explained obviously, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "I… I brought someone…"

"The guards told me you were bringing a guest." Anora stepped to the side, welcoming Alistair into her quarters for the first time in… more years than Alistair could count.

Her fondness of gold and white first hit him as he examined the space he entered. "I… you remember Elissa?" It was a stupid question, and Anora rolled her eyes at it appropriately.

"Yes, of course."

"She…" He swallowed. "She didn't die when she killed the Archdemon." Anora didn't immediately respond and Alistair continued quickly. "She's been living in the wilderness of Orlais and I've brought her back… but she doesn't remember anything."

Anora folded her arms and her eyelids fell as she examined her husband. "Alistair, are feeling alright?"

"There was never anything wrong with me!" He felt his temper getting the best of him. "She's real, and she's here. You can meet her tomorrow, if you like." He wrenched the door opened violently and walked through it. Anora called something out to him, but he wasn't listening.

He shuffled down the hall. He'd been on his feet all day and longed for the familiar comfort of bed, but he had a very important guest who he had to ensure was well taken care of. He knocked on the door feebly and entered to find her sitting on the edge of the bed, in awe of her surroundings. A quick survey of the room elicited a huff from the king. "I don't know why Bran put you in here. We have nicer rooms…"

"I think it's pretty nice," Elissa commented and added quietly. "Almost too nice…"

He opened the carved Armoire and frowned at the dresses hanging within. "We can do better than this," he mumbled and turned toward the bed. "Are those cotton sheets?" It was then that he finally saw the discomfort on Elissa's face. "This is a lot of change, isn't it?" She nodded and he sighed at his own ignorance. "There's a guard in the hall. He's been instructed to help you with whatever you may need." When this didn't seem to soothe her he moved to the window and pointed. "You see that room across the courtyard? The one with the big balcony?" She moved to stand next to him and squinted at the dark. "That's my room. If you need anything…"

"Thank you, Alistair, but I think what I need most now is a good night's sleep."

He nodded and bid her good night before finally slipping into his own bed. It was warm and soft but not exactly how he remembered it. As he looked around the room nothing seemed quite the same. This had served as a sanctuary for a lover in mourning, an unhappy husband, or an overwhelmed king. He wasn't sure what he was now, only that he was different. Elissa had a way of doing that. And now that she was back everything was about to change.

OOOOOOOOOO

Unfortunately, Alistair was greeted the next morning with a list of things that had to be attended to since the King's departure, and he couldn't be by Elissa's side as she spent her first day in the palace. He continuously asked about her, however, to any servant who happened to be nearby, making certain she received breakfast and a bath, and any other thing she may have asked for. He was assured that her only request was for some time alone. After lunch he found a free moment in his schedule and after much searching, found Elissa sitting on the ballroom floor. He looked up at the painted ceiling at which she stared. It was covered in a very Fereldan mural of fur-clad warriors celebrating amongst their dogs. He sat on the floor beside her and leaned back on his palms. "Do you use this room often?" she asked, her eyes falling to the ornate molding on the walls.

"Not really. It's for balls and galas but we don't have many of those."

She spoke lowly, commenting mostly to herself, "A room like this should be constantly filled with music."

They sat in silence a moment before Alistair started humming. It was a lively tune like those one would hear at a bright tavern on a cold night. He stood and upon seeing Elissa smirk at his musical styling pulled her arm to bring her up next to him. Once she was on her feet he slid his hand down to grasp her own. His other hand met with her waist and he was soon leading her in a dance, continuing to hum all the while. She giggled as he spun her and suddenly they were no longer in an empty ballroom, but a world of their own. Alistair was so enthralled by the beauty in his arms once again that he forgot to keep humming and without the music they were thrown back to reality.

"You're a very good dancer," Elissa commented, her hand still resting on his shoulder. They were frozen in the pose of dancing without the movement. "You must dance often with your wife…" Her eyes dropped to the side and her grasp on him loosened.

Instinctively he held her tighter. "You know, Anora and I… we're not together."

Elissa raised an eyebrow. "Is that what they're calling it these days?"

"I mean, we're married but it's not what you think. It was all politics and it wasn't my idea. I had to be talked into it!" Elissa seemed to relax more but she still backed away. "I just… thought you might like to know." He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly and shrugged. "Friends tell each other these things, right?"

A faint smile finally broke on Elissa's face. "Then I guess I'm glad you did."

Alistair wanted to start another song or come up with any other excuse to get her back to being close to him, but before he could think of something his wife walked in. "There you are! What're you doing in…" Her voice trailed into silence and her face fell as she caught sight of Elissa. "Maker's breath!" she breathed. "So you weren't lying."

"Told you." Alistair folded his arms smugly. "Elissa this is Anora my… err… the queen."

"It's nice to meet you," Elissa nodded politely in the other woman's direction, which only seemed to confuse her further.

"You truly don't remember?"

Alistair stiffened. It was enough to have to explain why he married at all, but entirely more difficult to describe why he married Anora of all people. From the lack of color in her face it was clear Anora wasn't interested in having the past dug up just yet either. So when Elissa's expression grew curious and she asked, "Is there something I should know?" the monarchs shook their heads and mumbled, "Nothing."

"You have a visitor," Anora announced, suddenly remembering why she went searching for her husband in the first place.

"I…" Alistair looked concernedly at Elissa as if she was a puppy he was afraid to leave alone.

"I can entertain myself," she assured him. He left the ballroom followed by Anora, who shot a fleeting look back at the Hero of Fereldan which did not go unnoticed and gave Elissa a strange feeling in the pit of her stomach.


	13. start spreading the word

That You May Always Remember Me

Chapter 12

"start spreading the word"

Alistair was completely expecting his visitor to be one of the many people he was convinced only existed to make his life difficult, but was pleasantly surprised to see the ginger hair of his uncle. "Teagan!" he exclaimed, hugging the man strongly. "What're you doing here?"

Teagan frowned, resting his hands on the shoulder of the king who would always be a rambunctious stable boy to him and holding him an arm's length away. "I heard you weren't feeling well."

Alistair huffed, shaking himself free of the man's grasp. "Did Anora tell you that?"

"No," he replied, narrowing his eyes at the accusation. "Fergus Cousland did."

"Where is he?" Alistair quickly asked at the mention of the man who seemed to be impossible to reach.

"I ran into him while leaving the Free Marches after the tourney. It seemed he had some business in Ostwick. He told me you may need an old friend around."

"There's… something I need to tell you," Alistair began, fussing with his hair and turning a new shade of pink.

"The Hero of Fereldan is alive," Anora announced as she entered the room with Seneschal Bran in tow.

"What?" Teagan looked to Alistair who nodded in agreement; upset that his dramatic reveal had been stolen. "Where is she?"

"In the castle," Anora once again spoke before Alistair could.

"How…?"

"We don't know," Alistair swiftly interrupted, looking triumphantly at Anora, who seemed unaware of the game they were playing. "All we know is that she doesn't remember anything. The Blight, her family, me…"

Teagan scratched at his beard in thought. "Alive…" he murmured to himself. "Who knows about this?"

"Just the four of us in this room for now." Anora turned to Alistair. "That's what I came to talk about. Should be make a formal announcement? Introduce her to the public?"

"No, she'd be bombarded. I don't think she's ready for that."

"Then what should we do?" Anora asked impatiently. "She's already been seen by half our staff and gossip spreads quickly among them. If you wish to keep her presence a secret then we need a plan."

"We could refine her to her room or a small portion of the palace," Bran suggested.

"No!" Alistair disputed. "She's not a child being punished; she should be free to roam wherever she likes."

"Perhaps a disguise of some sort?" Teagan chimed in. "Change her hair color and…"

"No!" Alistair repeated, getting irritated by these options. Besides, he rather liked the color her hair already was.

"Then what, Alistair?" Anora folded her arms. "If we don't do something soon it's going to become very apparent that we're hiding something and you know how rumors can quickly become much worse than the truth."

"That's it!" Bran exclaimed as the others looked at him curiously. "We'll start a rumor and spread it amongst the people ourselves. It will make the theory that the Hero of Fereldan is actually alive seem like a dull banality in comparison."

"But it would still have to explain Elissa's being here even if they don't know who exactly she is," Teagan added.

The group was silent for a while until Anora spoke up. "We'll say that Alistair has taken a mistress, and he's scoured Thedas to find one that looks just like the late Cousland." She smiled at her husband proudly. "It would even explain your recent absence."

Alistair wasn't nearly as happy with this solution. "That makes me sound like a crazy person who's obsessed with his ex-girlfriend!" He looked to his uncle for support. "Teagan?"

But Teagan stared at the floorboards in embarrassment as he said quietly, "People would probably believe it…"

"Teagan!" Alistair scolded as he felt the sting of betrayal.

"Then that's what we'll do, yes?" Bran moved on. "I can start spreading the word today."

"If everyone else thinks this is a good idea…" Alistair sighed. "Are you sure, Anora? This is going to reflect on both of us."

Anora's face hardened in resolution. "I'm sure."

OOOOOOOOOO

Alistair found Elissa on a bench in the garden, blissfully unaware of the conversation that had just taken place concerning her. She smiled when he sat down next to her and he wondered if he should warn her about the planted rumor. Surely she would hear it from someone. "Elissa, I…"

"Here," she cut him off and eagerly thrust something into his vision. It was a rose: a vibrant shade of red with velvet petals and thorns that Elissa's small fingers aptly avoided. His mouth fell open but only awed silence fell out. "I hope it's okay that I cut it." She held the blossom against her nose. "It just…" Her cheeks almost turned as red as the flower. "It reminded me of you."

Alistair still couldn't form words that would express the sentiment this gift stirred in him. He managed to finally shut his mouth and leaned in to plant a chaste kiss on her cheek as a thank you, but she turned at the last second and their lips met once again. The same feeling rushed back to Alistair of how right it felt to have her close to him and how his hand fit perfectly on the small of her back. As their lips released from one another's Alistair decided that just a second of that feeling was worth another split lip, but he soon realized he wouldn't have to accept that fate as Elissa's fingers swiftly dug into the hair on the back of his head and pulled him back to her again. He didn't fight back and wrapped both his arms around her waist and she put her other hand on the top of his chest. For as long as they remained that way Alistair was positive there had never been a brighter or warmer day in Fereldan. The flowers had never bloomed so much or smelled so sweet, and the king had never been happier.

After some untold amount of time his eyes blinked open and caught sight of two guards standing on one of the second floor balconies overlooking the garden area. One nudged the other and appeared to whisper something to him before they both laughed together. Alistair and Elissa were clearly the focus of their attention and it dawned on him that he may have fought so hard against Anora's rumor not because it was nonsense but because it was a little too close to the truth. He pulled away from her and frowned, the heaviness of reality forcing its way past his pleasant thoughts. "Elissa, we…"

"I'm sorry," she apologized, turning to face away from him, though he could still see the flush on her face. "I shouldn't have…"

"No!" Alistair grabbed her shoulder and turned her back to him more forcefully than he planned to. "You don't have to apologize. I just need to tell you… you might hear people saying things."

"Saying things?" She looked to the side and chewed on her lower lip. "I think I understand."

Alistair knew she couldn't possibly understand the convoluted situation they were currently in, but he struggled with a way to explain it that wouldn't send her running for the hills. Clearly she still cared about him and he knew his feelings for her hadn't waned for a second in the last ten years, but there were so many other variables in play. He had a wife and a very public job; she was unaccustomed to an entire world that knew her as a hero. He suddenly found himself wishing he was back in the Blight, when they were both nobodies who answered to no one. After all, he understood Darkspawn a lot more than politics. "It's just that…"

"I understand," she insisted more decisively. "It was inappropriate for me to… It won't happen again." She stood and walked back toward the castle doors. Alistair's heart lurched after her in distress that what she said might be true, but when she stopped at the stone arch and glanced back at him he knew there was still a chance it wasn't.


	14. That voice

**That You May Always Remember Me**

 **Chapter 13**

 **That voice.**

Days passed and Elissa remained in the castle. She spent much of her time in the gardens and even requested riding lessons from the stablemaster. At night she would curl up in the library, quickly reading through the large collection of books in an attempt to retrieve all the knowledge she once possessed. Alistair began skipping the quiet dinners he and Anora used to share and instead brought whatever he could carry from the kitchen to Elissa and they would eat together while discussing the past, present, and future.

One evening Alistair found himself working in his office much later than he would have preferred when a familiar form entered, speaking quickly in that rich accent that was once familiar to the king's ears. "I have a bone to pick with you." Alistair's first reaction was to grunt at whatever he had done wrong now before he finally looked up and found Zevran Aranai staring angrily at him as if continuing an argument from that morning when in reality the two hadn't spoken in 10 years.

"How did you get in here? I have guards…"

"Yes, and they are not as good at their jobs as I am at mine. Now stop changing the subject and explain yourself."

Alistair shoved his head into his palms. "Ugh… What?"

Zevran took a seat in front of the desk. "When the Blight ended and we all went our separate ways I understood. I never thought we'd be lifelong friends, but I at least thought you'd have the decency to tell me if Elissa was still alive!"

Alistair slowly lifted his head. "How do you know that?"

Zevran squinted at the king. "Well it certainly wasn't because you told me. How could you? Elissa was my friend too and I had a right to know if she was alive or not!"

"Shh!" Alistair hushed as Zevran raised his voice in anger. "No one knows except a handful of people… apparently including you."

"You should have told me."

"And how was I supposed to find you? Look down every dark alley and seedy underground market?"

"Yes, those would have been good places to start, but you didn't even try, did you?"

Alistair failed to produce a response to this and let his forehead fall to his desk tiredly. Zevran could see that he had made his point clear. "I suppose," he began in a slightly softer tone, "I could begin to forgive this transgression if I were to be offered a place to stay in your lovely home…"

"Fine," Alistair groaned. Zevran pushed his chair back, preparing to leave, when the king spoke up cautiously. "If you go to see Elissa though… don't expect too much of her."

Zevran frowned. "So that's true as well?" He sighed and wiped his face before a devilish grin crossed it. "But surely you've been reminding her?"

Alistair shook his head slowly. "She's as quick a learner as ever, but she doesn't seem to be actually remembering anything. I thought just being here would help but…"

"What I mean is," Zevran continued as his accent seemed to get thicker. "You've been giving her plenty of reasons to remember you, no? I've heard about the king's recent _diplomatic affairs."_

Alistair's face flushed bright pink. "That's… you shouldn't participate in such idle gossip. None of it is true."

The corners of Zevran's mouth turned downward slightly and his brow crinkled. "I find that hard to believe. I remember during the Blight you two couldn't keep your hands off each other."

"Then you remember wrong because that's not true either."

"I know you liked to think you were being quiet but our tents weren't so far apart and…" Alistair cupped his hands over his ears and began humming loudly to himself. He knew it was childish but he desperately wanted to avoid hearing whatever the elf had to say. Zevran huffed. "I don't understand you, Alistair. Against all odds a man like you somehow managed to get a woman like that (even thought she could have had her chance with me…), and now that you can be with her again you do nothing!"

"It's very complicated."

"I disagree. 'I love you.' 'I love you, too. Now let's take our pants off.' See? It's really quite simple."

Alistair rolled his eyes and Zevran stood once again to leave. "Have a bath drawn for me. It is so tiring talking with you." Before Alistair could echo the sentiment he caught Zevran staring at the painting of Elissa on his office wall. The Anitvan mumbled sadly to himself before leaving the room and once again Alistair had to silently agree. It would never be the same.

OOOOOOOOOO

Viola threw her book on the ground and it bounced away from her, just barely missing the blazing fireplace. She had read everything she could get her hands on about the secretive Grey Wardens and they all came the same conclusion: if you kill an Archdemon, you die. She could find no loophole in this logic or even the beginnings of a plausible explanation for Elissa's survival. It was becoming evident that she simply didn't know enough about Archdemons and, unless they were hiding more secrets than anyone realized, the Wardens didn't know enough either. They knew how to kill them and that seemed to be all the knowledge they believed necessary.

The Inquisitor rubbed her eyes and stretched her legs out in front of her on the couch in her bedroom. Outside the wind howled as it raced across the Frostbacks, a familiar sound to all members of the Inquisition. That was why, though the noise was very faint, Viola could clearly make out a wolf's howl in the distance. Walking out to her balcony she leaned over the railing and squinted north where she could make out the silhouette of a pack approaching Skyhold. There wasn't much game this high on the mountain and she was confused why they'd wandered so far, but once they were close enough that she could see them clearer she gasped and raced down to meet them in the snow. They were Elissa's wolves.

She shivered in the cold as her excitement had prevented her from putting on a coat or even suitable shoes, but she had to investigate the dogs who were now standing right before her. "Are you looking for your mistress?" she asked, bending down to let the alpha of the group sniff her hand. He did so and quickly found her to be acceptable, allowing her to pat his head softly. "I'm not sure you'd be welcome in the palace." She laughed to herself and added quietly, "What am I saying? It's Fereldan."

The other wolves seemed to grow unsettled as the Alpha backed away from Viola and stood on its hind legs. The Inquisitor's violet eyes widened to their limits. She had once witnessed Morrigan turning into a dragon, but that was nothing compared to the horror this transformation elicited within her. In only a few short seconds the wolf had vanished and in its place stood Solas.

Her first instinct was to throw a fireball at him, which he aptly deflected.

"Viola."

That voice. That voice she once thought could make anything sound beautiful. That voice she decided over many wasted nights of waiting that she never wanted to hear again. He took a step forward and that was far too close for her. With a gesture she trapped him in a magical cage. "You know I can get out of this?" he asked with a smirk that only made Viola's rage grow.

"You don't get to speak!" The wolves began to growl lowly at her. "Call them off!"

Solas crossed his arms. "Only if you agree to be rational and listen to me."

"And why would I do that?" Solas nodded slightly toward the dogs who where now baring their teeth. Though she knew better than to trust the elf any more, this was an easy bluff to call. Raising her hands in the air she stared him down defiantly. "If this is what you came here for then so be it."

Solas crinkled his forehead and let go of the pretense. He rounded his lips and produced a whistle Viola couldn't hear at all, but it sent the pack running down the mountainside. She lowered her hands and moved toward Solas, still keeping him in his glowing cage. She examined him with all her scrutiny, but he looked the same as always. A little tired, maybe. "Where have you been?" she asked, her words dripping with acid.

"I… I can't tell you."

"Why did you leave?"

Solas responded with a frown.

"Can you at least tell me why you were pretending to be one of Elissa's wolves?"

He smiled faintly at a question he could answer. "I was watching her. I have been for some time. I wasn't there when you found her in the woods but I know you sent her to Denerim. Viola, listen carefully." His expression changed toward something the Inquisitor could hardly believe looked like honest earnestness. "She is not what she appears." Biting back the urge to yell, "I knew it!" Viola kept her gaze locked on Solas as both their faces leaned closer to the barrier between them. "That's why I came back- to warn you about the Hero of Fereldan."


	15. a fire

**That You May Always Remember Me**

 **Chapter 14**

" **a fire"**

Alistair entered his bedroom as he did every night and immediately began to undress. Although he had spent a good chunk of his life in chainmail and plate armor, nothing felt as heavy to him as the trappings of a king. Once the furs and fine fabrics were tossed into the corner of the room he felt he could finally breathe easy in his cotton pajamas. He plopped down onto the couch when he thought he heard something just outside the window and looked up to find a shadow move quickly past. He instinctively reached to his hip, only to be reminded that he was completely unarmed. As he searched the room for something that could be used as a weapon there came a soft tapping at the balcony door and Elissa's face revealed itself in the low light of the candles.

Laughing at his own paranoia he opened the door for her. "What are you doing here?"

Elissa slipped into the warm room. "You said if I ever needed anything…"

"Of course, I just figured you'd use the door." He looked back at the second floor balcony. "How did you even get up there?"

"I climbed the trellis." She spoke matter-of-factly but stared at the floor, clearly uncomfortable. "I didn't think I should make it too obvious I was here." Alistair noticed for the first time that she was awkwardly thumbing a book in her hands. When his gaze landed on it she took in a deep breath and held it out on display. "I read this."

Alistair's heart missed a beat when he recognized the cover: a man and woman wrapped in each other's arms while the world burned around them. 'Wardens of Love' was the title of this particular tale and it was, unfortunately, one of many that popped up after the Blight ended and rumors of a romantic relationship between the Hero Fereldan and its new king spread across Thedas. They all found the most fantastical situations to put the couple in where the only logical choice was to make love for forty pages. This particular book was the worst of the bunch, though.

"Where did you get this?" Alistair asked before quickly smacking himself on the forehead and answering his own question. "Zevran! That sneaky little elf…"

"Do you know what's in there?" Elissa's voice reminded Alistair that his plans for revenge had to be put on hold for the moment.

"Yes, it… it's a silly fantasy someone let out of their head. It's nonsense!"

"But it says we were…"

"You know you can't believe everything you read and… and people will write almost anything for money…"

Alistair tripped and stumbled through his words but Elissa's stare remained vigilant. She narrowed her eyes and spoke coolly, "You lied to me."

"I didn't lie; I just… left out a really big part…" His voice trailed off at the end of a feeble defense.

"A big part?" Elissa's coolness was turning to anger. "Alistair, according to this we were lovers!"

He cringed at a word that had been making him blush since he was a child. "But we were never like this!" He held up the book to her before tossing it aside in disgust. "That is nothing but lies and…" He contorted his face. "…gross words like 'moist'."

"And it's not based on any sort of truth?" She laughed at Alistair's silent and blushingly pink confirmation and threw her hands in the air. "And everyone knew, didn't they? Here I thought they looked at me because I'm supposed to be some sort of hero, but they probably thought I was…"

"Damn what they all think!" Alistair's temper finally broke and he feared the guards in the hall would react to his screams. "Believe it or not I brought you here to keep you close, keep you safe, not to lie to you."

"Then why did you?"

"When we met in the woods you thought I was some sort of demon. Would you honestly have come with me if I told you the entire truth?"

She looked away from his gaze and didn't respond. "I thought I was going crazy…" she mumbled to herself. "I thought you thought I was crazy."

"Why would I think that?"

She looked back at him and there was a glimmer of desperation in her eyes. "Because I just couldn't stay away from you. Here you were, a married king and I attacked you every chance I got." She walked a few feet away and leaned on one of the intricately carved bed posts with a sigh.

"If it helps," Alistair started instinctively closing the space between them, "I enjoyed every second of it."

Elissa smirked briefly before a frown fell on her face again. "So what were we? Honestly?"

Once again those eyes met him with a longing look that he wanted only to answer. All the lies he believed he had to tell and all the careful movements he had to make to keep the fragile threads of his life intact had seemed so necessary until that moment when he realized the only thing that would ever matter to him was those eyes and that girl, and she wanted the truth. He grabbed her hands and held them loosely in his own. "Elissa, I can honestly say that I never have and never will love anyone like I love you. I feel like such a fool for giving up hope of ever seeing you again, but now that you're here I can promise you: even if you kill a thousand Archdemons and disappear a thousand times over, I will always find you."

Elissa stared at him, speechless, and it took every ounce of strength he had to fight his insecurity and meet that stare. He couldn't do it the first time he told her he loved her, and this was just like that night all over again; the need to be honest, the fear of what she'd say.

"Alistair…" The word fell from her lips in such a sad tone he had to look away, but Elissa wanted his eyes on her and she always got what she wanted. She took her hand out of his hold and placed it on his cheek, turning him back to her, and spoke decidedly, "Alistair." A smiled flashed across her lips and suddenly they were intertwined again: his hands in her hair, her breath on his neck. The line that divided one from the other steadily blurred as all questions dropped, all worries were forgotten, and the intimidation of their youth was long gone. Alistair couldn't remember when he first felt the cushion of the soft mattress beneath him or when his shirt was flung onto one of the bed posts like a white flag of surrender, but he could distinctly recall when his hands met across Elissa's back. His fingers aptly removed the wedding ring that had kept its place for 10 years, and with one swift motion it was thrown into the abyss of the night.

OOOOOOOOOO

Hours later, the room had grown dark and quiet. Alistair listened to the rhythmic beating of Elissa's heart as he held her close and nestled his face into her sweet-scented hair. There was a time when he believed he would never get to do that again, but he didn't want to think about that now, or the nights they'd lost and the consequences they still had to face. Right now it was just the two of them lying on the edge of sleep in each other's arms while the night crept all around them. Nothing else existed, nothing else mattered…

"What was that?" Elissa sat up and stared into the darkness intently.

Alistair held his breath but neither heard nor saw anything. "It's nothing," he tried to convince her and wrapped his arm tightly around her waist to pull her back to their former comfort, but she remained stiff and alert like a Mabari standing guard. "I know I heard something…"

"It's just…"

A guard burst through the doors of the king's bedroom. "Your Majesty…" he began in an out-of-breath huff but stopped when his face twisted in shock at the sight of Elissa who had thankfully managed to cover herself with the silky sheets in time.

"Is there a reason for this invasion?" Alistair cut in quickly and ferociously.

The guard's attention was immediately drawn back to the current situation. "There's a fire in the palace!"

"Maker's breath!" Alistair exclaimed, dismissing the guard with an assurance that he and Elissa could make it out of the building on their own before placing his bare feet on the cold stone floor. He raced to the wall where his robe was hung, a deep shade of Fereldan green, and gave it to Elissa. For himself he scanned the ground for his pants but they had somehow disappeared in all the activity of a few hours earlier. He gave up the search quickly and threw on a fresh pair from the wardrobe before grabbing Elissa's hand and racing out of the castle.

There was a mass of people standing in the courtyard, from servants and guards to palace guests, including Zevran who approached the couple first, examining their attire and not even trying to hold back a huge grin. "And what have you two been up to?" Elissa blushed but stared him down as Alistair rolled his eyes and caught sight of Anora giving instructions nearby.

"I'll be right back." As much as he hated to think what Zevran might say to Elissa if he left them alone, he felt obliged to ensure Anora was okay. Though he approached with kind intentions the look she gave him turned his warm, "how are you?" into a much colder, "Find anything out?"

"I don't know any more than you do," she responded, folding her arms against the chill of the night air and looking Alistair up and down. "What are you wearing?"

It was the first time he had bothered to look down and was greeted by the sight of his gold pants glittering in the moonlight. "It's been a long night," he sighed.

"I can see." Anora's sight had fallen on Elissa, who stood giggling with Zevran in a very recognizable robe.

Alistair followed her icy stare and found himself growing defensive. "Is there a problem?"

"You know exactly what the problem is."

"No, as I recall, it was your idea to announce to the world that I have a mistress."

"To distract people with meaningless gossip so they don't start asking the wrong questions. I did not intend for you to go throwing your affair in everyone's face like this."

That word hit Alistair like a ton of bricks. It had been floating around in the back of his mind for a while, but this was the first time someone verbalized it. But rather than give in to the rush of guilt that suddenly seized him, he got angrier. "What makes you so possessive all of a sudden? You've never cared about me. You don't even like me!"

"This is about much more than how anyone feels. Maybe if you bothered to comprehend that you'd be a better king!"

That was the final straw. "I think you're just jealous because you know if she hadn't gone missing you'd be rotting in a dungeon somewhere for your father's crimes!"

Anora's face had grown beet red with rage and her response would clearly be explosive but suddenly a charming voice cut through the tension of the night. "My, but things are never dull in Denerim, are they?" Alistair turned to see that their argument had caught the attention of quite a few onlookers, including the Teryn of Highever.

"Fergus!" He immediately went to shake the man's hand and pulled him into a hug.

"Am I interrupting?" Fergus watched Anora step away from the crowd to calm herself down.

"Not at all," Alistair assured, glad the man's presence was helping to relieve the bitter taste in his mouth. "You got my message?"

"Message?" Fergus frowned in confusion. "No, I just got into town for the Landsmeet day after tomorrow."

"Landsmeet? But I didn't schedule a…" He saw Anora whispering to their seneschal and a group of guards and knew exactly who ordered this. "Of course. The Landsmeet. But first, there's something I want to show you."

"If it's the shirt that goes with those pants, I'd love to see it."

Alistair grimaced at Fergus' amused laughter and forcibly turned him to see the woman standing only a short distance away. Fergus said nothing, strode over to her, and wrapped his arms around her in what was certainly one of the tightest hugs Thedas had ever seen. Over his shoulder Elissa looked at Alistair with confusion, but when Zevran whispered something in her ear her eyes lit up and she returned the hug with full force. Alistair smiled at the sight of brother and sister reunited, but there was still something he had to take care of. He took a deep breath before approaching Anora for the second time that night. "So there's a Landsmeet coming up?"

"Did I not mention it?" she asked innocently, not looking up from a letter she had been handed recently.

"Did you schedule it while I was gone?"

"You told me to take care of things. There are issues in the Bannorn that need to be resolved."

"But you didn't know when I was coming back." His eyes narrowed and his temper rose as she continued to refuse to meet his gaze. "You were going to hold it without me."

"I was going to continue running the country, yes." She finally looked into his eyes with cold resolution. "Fereldan doesn't stop every time you have a mental breakdown."

A guard approached the monarchs, interrupting what was about to become yet another public battle. "The fire is out. It was small; evidently a kitchen maid overreacted. You can reenter the palace at any time."

Anora walked away but Alistair stood in thought for a while as the masses of people moved about him. Anora had never been a particularly kind or supportive wife, but something about Elissa's return made her more sour than ever. Maybe it was that Elissa refused to name Anora queen ten years ago or, more likely, she saw her as a present threat to her title. He chuckled to himself as he watched Elissa and Fergus talking excitedly. Maybe it was right of Anora to worry. Anyone with a brain in their head could see that Elissa was always a threat.


	16. a damn good story

**That You May Always Remember Me**

 **Chapter 15**

" **a damn good story"**

 _Varric,_

 _Hope all is well in Kirkwall. They'd better be appreciating all the coin you're throwing at them. Statues of your likeness, parades in your honor, babies named after you… That sort of thing. Remember how you used to complain about all the crazy shit that happens to me? Well, it seems some new crazy shit has arisen and I could use the help of a friend or two. Hopefully you and Bianca haven't lost your edge. I'll be leaving for Denerim soon._

 _Viola_

OOOOOOOOOO

Elissa spent the rest of the night at Fergus' home in Denerim. Though she had only spent a short time in Alistair's bed, he noticed how empty it felt without her. Late in the morning he managed to slip away from Landsmeet preparations he hadn't been expecting to have to deal with and walked the short distance to the Cousland estate. He found Fergus sitting alone in the entry hall, clutching a pile of green fabric. When he looked up at the King his expression was grim. "I was about to come see you," he said and held out the robe in his hands. "I believe this is yours."

"Right," Alistair blushed at the awkward situation. "Thanks… So, how's Elissa?"

"She's fine, considering the circumstances." Alistair nodded in realization of what was causing the Teryn's mood. It always seemed to take some time for people to get used to the fact that she wasn't quite the same as they remembered her. "It's strange," Fergus continued, "She was always so strong, and now she's… vulnerable." Alistair nodded again without thinking and Fergus' eyes narrowed. "So you agree?"

"Um… sure."

"It's interesting that a man who claims to care so much about my sister and knows the situation she's in would still take advantage of her the way you did."

"What?!" Alistair took a step back and Fergus rose angrily to his feet. "What do you mean 'take advantage'?"

"I was reunited last night with a sister I thought was dead while she was wore nothing but your ugly robe! And don't even bother coming up with some half-assed excuse for that. I know you're cheating on Anora; it's apparently all anyone in this town can talk about. I just can't believe it's with her! She didn't even recognize her own brother, but you wasted no time getting her into bed!"

Fergus was fuming with 10 years of pent-up protective older brother rage and Alistair knew he would have to tread lightly, but unfortunately no one told that to his mouth. "She's the one that showed up in my bedroom in the middle of the night."

That was definitely the wrong thing to say and he knew that even before Fergus' fist connected with his face. "Fergus!" Elissa's voice echoed in the room as Alistair stumbled backward from the blow.

"You're too good for him!" Fergus declared as she helped Alistair into a chair. "I'll never understand what happened during that Blight that put him on the throne!"

"I think you need to take a minute to calm down." Before he could object to his sister's suggestion she added a stern, "Fergus" and he left the room, mumbling angrily all the way. Cupping Alistair's chin, she examined his face. "That looks like it hurts."

"Not half as much as when you hit me." He looked to the ground as Fergus' words crept back into his mind. "You don't think…"

"No." Elissa answered resolutely. "Fergus is just angry; I don't think even he really knows why. I'm sure it has something to do with me…"

"You haven't done anything wrong."

Elissa took her hands off Alistair and twisted them nervously. "That's not entirely true. Fergus may have interpreted a lot of things incorrectly, but he did have one good point." A shadow crossed her face as her pink lips turned into a frown. "You're married. I know it didn't seem like I cared about that last night but after I heard you and Anora fighting…"

"Ugh… You heard that?"

"Everyone heard it." Her voice got quiet and sad. "I don't want to cause fights like that."

"You didn't! Well, maybe technically… Look, I'll try to deal with Anora better, but I can't exactly make her disappear (as much as I might want to)." He could feel something was about to drop.

"I know you're in a tough position. That's why I have to be the one to leave."

And there it was. His heart fell into his stomach and all he could think was that there had to be something he could say to fix this; something to make her take that sentence back and never utter it again. "I'll give up the throne."

"What?"

"Anora can be queen. It's all she ever wanted anyway. And if it means I get to be with you then…"

"No, you can't do that!"

"Why not?"

"Because you told me I made you king. I may not remember why, but I'm sure I had a damn good reason and I'm not about to start questioning my old self now."

"You were supposed to be there with me. We were going to get married!"

"But we didn't." Elissa's face was almost as rigid as the first time they met in the Orlesian woods, but her expression was somewhat sadder. "And we both need to start respecting the fact that you already have a wife." She stood and looked down at him and he felt like he couldn't possibly be more than 3 inches tall. "Fergus is leaving for Highever after the Landsmeet and I'll be going with him."

With that she walked away and it all came back to him: a flash of hair, metal, and blood running away from him and toward the inevitable. He was losing her again. He wanted to stop time, he wanted to do something right for once, but just like last time he couldn't move.

OOOOOOOOOO

Knocking woke him up hours later and he found himself sitting alone in a dark study, a glass of Dragon's Blood Whiskey in his hand, half of which had been spilt on the carpet during his sleep. He decided he never really liked that rug anyway and topped off his drink from the bottle on the table. The knocking came again and when Alistair failed to respond the door creaked open and someone entered.

"Go away, Teagan," he called without looking back at his guest.

"My steps may have gotten a tad heavier in recent years but I'm still not that bad." Leliana's sweet voice cut through the haze Alistair found himself in.

"Well, if it isn't the Divine! Come to grace me with your presence? Or am I a poor soul in need of saving?"

Leliana frowned as Alistair took a sip of what was clearly not his first drink of the night. "I came to yell at you, but that seems unnecessary now." She sat in the armchair opposite him and poured herself a glass of the brown liquid.

"So Zevran told you?"

Leliana laughed. "I told him! He may be a half decent spy, but I am a spy master." She sniffed her drink and found it quite potent. "So what sorrows are we drowning tonight?"

"She's leaving," he almost whispered. "She's going to Highever for good." A sudden burst of laughter erupted from him. "And I didn't even want to marry Anora! 'It's for the best', everyone said, but no one told me if my girlfriend was still alive that this meant I could never be with her again."

"Hmm," Leliana pondered in a much calmer demeanor than her old friend. "Elissa never was the mistress type."

"She won't let me leave the crown." He slumped low in his chair, nursing his drink close to his stomach. "How am I supposed to stay king and get Anora out of the picture?"

Leliana felt for the man. Being one of the handful of people who knew he and Elissa when they were together, she knew how happy they made each other. But she was also well aware of the dangers of a political marriage. At least in Val Royeaux, adultery was one thing, but upsetting the status quo because you loved someone else was unheard of. Typically the only way out of a situation like this was a discreet murder, but Leliana chose not to suggest this as it seemed in poor taste, and given Alistair's current condition it was very possible he might agree. There was another option but she chose to keep her mouth shut about that one too, for the problems it would surely cause.

"What if I got a divorce?" Alistair lit up as the idea struck and Leliana deflated. That was the last thing she wanted to hear.

"People don't just get divorced, Alistair."

"Why not?"

"It's difficult. There are a lot of things you need to consider. Like what would happen to Anora?"

"She'll be taken care of."

"Do you really think she'll be okay with not being Queen any longer?"

"I'll offer her something else. She's reasonable…" He took another long sip. "I think."

Leliana folded her arms. "You'd need the Chantry to approve."

Alistair's lips twisted into a wry smile. "If only I had an old friend who happened to be the leader of the entire religion…"

She sighed. "I can't do that. Whatever history we may have together I just… If I openly supported your divorce it could be suicide for both our careers."

Alistair lowered his brow and took a long gulp that finished the glass. "Forget about our history, then." He finally spoke. "What about Elissa? I doubt that lay sister in Lothering would ever have become Divine if Elissa hadn't agreed to take her with us."

"That's…"

"Or that time she helped you find Marjolaine? Or how you got to be there when we discovered the ashes of Andraste? Or that time she bought new shoes and the two of you…" He rubbed his face. "Oh, wait. That was a dream I had."

Leliana watched him stoically, trying to hide the fact that he was actually convincing her. "And if it destroys a country in the process?"

Alistair leaned over his knees and smirked. "Then it'll make a damn good story."

Leliana huffed and crossed the room. A few moments of scrounging through an old desk yielded her some writing materials. Mumbling to herself that Alistair was only able to convince her because he happened to know her at a time in her life when she was less guarded, she wrote quickly but neatly and blew on the ink to dry it faster before handing the parchment to the king. "This should do until I can get to Val Royeaux and send something more official."

Alistair caught sight of the words 'approval', 'divorce', and Leliana's signature, and jumped up to hug her. She hugged him back and, though she still feared what would come of this, she knew he'd been right about at least one thing: this would make a damn good story.

OOOOOOOOOO

 _Your Inquisitorialness,_

 _No parades just yet, but I'm definitely going to have to bring that up. Unfortunately I have my hands full right now with smugglers, pirates, and red tape. (Remind me again why I care about this city?) So unless the sky's been ripped open Bianca and I are going to have to sit this one out. If you're desperate though, I have a friend who might be looking for some action._

 _Denerim, eh? Folks at Skyhold say you've been seen hanging around with Alistair Theirin. I'm sure you won't listen but be careful how involved you get over there. Politics is a killer._

 _Varric_


	17. The Landsmeet

**That You May Always Remember Me**

 **Chapter 16**

" **The Landsmeet"**

"Good riddance!" Zevran fell onto the bed in Elissa's room at Fergus' estate. "Alistair's a fool for putting up with that Anora all these years. Let him reap his reward."

"I don't know. Have you seen her from the back?" Oghren started giggling drunkenly.

Elissa raised an eyebrow toward Zevran. "We're friends with him?"

The Crow nodded tiredly.

"Hey!" Oghren protested. "I came all the way out here from Amaranthine as soon as I got Zev's message." He moved to stand near where Elissa sat at her vanity. Shuffling his feet a bit and looking down he spoke quietly, "I guess… I'm glad you're not dead."

Elissa smiled at what she was pretty sure was a sweet sentiment. She leaned down and planted a soft kiss on his forehead, which caused Oghren to erupt with more laughter. "And this isn't about punishing Alistair," Elissa continued, staring at the face in the mirror that still didn't feel quite right. "It's about making the hard decisions so that he doesn't have to."

"I think Alistair's been making his own decisions lately." Elissa frowned at the mysterious face that appeared in her doorway but Leliana smiled sweetly in response. "I'm an old friend." Glancing at the other two in the room she added, "Though I suppose you've been hearing that a lot lately."

"You've seen Alistair?"

"Oh, yes." Leliana moved to stand behind the Hero, picked up a silver brush and began combing her hair gently.

Elissa watched her closely in the vanity mirror and asked, "Is he upset?"

"It was somewhat hard to tell through the slurring… but he's absolutely distraught." Elissa's eyes fell on her own reflection where the pain of hurting the man she loved was visible. "I wouldn't give up on him just yet, though."

"Why not?" Zevran asked from his lounging place. "He's the one who got married."

"Did you expect him to stop living?" Leliana retorted. "We all moved on with our lives."

A loud belch from Oghren interjected. "Ah, give the little pike-twirler another chance!"

"It doesn't matter!" Elissa said angrily, shaking Leliana off her hair. "I'm not leaving because of what he did or how I feel. It just needs to be done. We can't all keep living in the past!"

Leliana glanced at Oghren and Zevran and despite Elissa's words they were all suddenly transported ten years in the past, listening to the only person in all of Thedas who could lead such an unlikely group of allies to achieve the impossible. Suddenly Leliana's fears about her agreement with Alistair faded as she understood more than ever that Elissa deserved a happy ending, if it was at all possible. "He's leaving Anora." All eyes in the room widened at the revelation. "He even got Chantry approval, I hear. It's all very official."

"Why would he do that?" Elissa asked quietly.

Leliana's laughter was as melodious as her voice. "For you, of course!"

"I…" Elissa seemed speechless for the first time in a very long time. "What should I do? Should I try to stop him?"

"Talking to him couldn't hurt."

"Right…" Elissa stood and wandered to the door as if in a daze.

"If you are going to try and convince him not to go through with this," Leliana called. "You might want to wipe that grin off your face first."

Elissa's smile only widened as she realized she couldn't.

OOOOOOOOOO

Alistair nervously paced the hall, his head still throbbing from the night before, but he had sobered up and thought long and hard about this and there was only one way forward. The other option was to let Elissa go, and he promised himself that he would never do that again. When Anora finally appeared he stopped her before she could enter the Great Hall. "We need to talk."

Anora seemed surprised but still guarded. "Now? The Landsmeet…"

"It can't wait until after."

The Queen reluctantly nodded and folded her arms to hear what he had to say.

"I… I'm sure I don't need to say it but this isn't working. I don't think it ever really worked, but it was enough for us to… at least for me to…" He sighed and rubbed his temples.

"What are you saying, Alistair?"

"I got this from Leli… Divine Victoria." He held out the hastily written note to Anora whose mouth fell open as she read it.

"You… want me to just leave?"

"No!" he interjected before another argument could start. "We both know you were never in this marriage for me. I can't give you the crown but… We never did fill the Teryn position in Gwaren after…" He motioned absently with his hand. In all this time he never could find the right words for 'I beheaded your father'.

"Gwaren?" Anora spoke quietly, turning the words over in her mind.

"I know Teyrna isn't the same as Queen and we'd have to wrestle the title away from the Banns who've been controlling the land for the past ten years but you'd live in a nice estate and still be involved in politics." He frowned at the lack of expression on her face. "Say something. Please."

She stared down at the paper clutched in her hands. "This is… generous, I suppose." She looked at the door hesitantly. "Could I make the announcement? I think it might be easier."

Alistair was shocked. "Of course!" As he followed her into the Landsmeet he couldn't believe it had been that easy. Maybe she realized that their marriage continuing would only cause more pain. Maybe she'd been looking for a way out too.

OOOOOOOOOO

Elissa marched into the palace but was stopped at the wooden doors that separated her from the room of nobles. "There's a Landsmeet in progress," the guard snarled, "and it's not to be interrupted."

"I have to speak to Alistair," she protested.

"Get in line." The man nodded toward something behind her and she turned to find the Inquisitor leaning against the far wall. She moved to stand next to her and after a while of silent waiting, Elissa spoke up. "I don't think I ever really thanked you for your part in finding me. So… thank you."

"Don't mention it," Viola sighed and looked sideways at the other woman. "How have things been since you got back? Do you feel any different?"

"Not really."

Viola frowned and silence filled the room again.

OOOOOOOOOO

Alistair stared out at the crowd of nobles. After all these years it still didn't feel any less intimidating to have those eyes on him, expecting greatness but waiting for failure. Teagan smiled at him weakly but up on one of the balconies Fergus still fumed with anger. Anora cleared her throat and the room was instantly hushed. "I don't relish in saying this," she started off quietly. "Fereldan has always been my home and it has been an honor to serve it all these years: first by Cailan's side and now Alistair's." She glanced at her husband. "And I believe that in that time I've come to know exactly what this country needs…" A flash of doubt crossed her face but it was swiftly swallowed and replaced by fierce resolution. "That's why I've called this Landsmeet - to implore you to see the truth. Alistair should not be your king!"

His mouth fell open but he wasn't sure why he had ever expected anything else. This is what Anora did the first time they attended a Landsmeet: lied and betrayed. He watched the malicious look on her face and suddenly knew it had been there for ten years and he was just too foolish to see it. The room erupted in debate but he only caught a fraction of what was being said.

"…talking to himself…"

"…disappeared for days…"

"…saw the mistress walking around…"

Teagan's voice cut in severely. "And what does she have to do with his ability to be your king? This isn't Orlais; we don't choose leaders based on rumors and gossip. He's Maric's son and that should be enough for all of you!"

"Well it wasn't enough for me! Not even during the Blight!" called an angry Bann from the rafters. "I fought for Loghain."

"Did you forget who helped to end that Blight?" Bann Alfstanna chimed in. She was smart and level-headed and managed to remain on Alistair's side since his reign began. His heart was lightened slightly to see his enemies didn't outnumber his allies as much as he would have expected.

"Oh yes, the great Grey Warden," the opposing Bann mocked. "Didn't we exile them for a reason? And what about those Rifts that popped up over all our lands? What did he do about them?"

"Are you seriously trying to blame Alistair for the Breach?" Fergus leaned over the railing and stared the older man down. Thankfully, he was wise enough to know where his loyalties lie, despite personal differences.

"These issues aside," Anora spoke up and called the attention of the room. The sound of her voice chilled Alistair to the bone. "The mental disorders, the Taint in his blood, the infidelity… These are things I've keep quiet about for years…"

"Years?" Alistair questioned, but not loudly enough.

"…out of respect for this throne, but this last incident has forced my hand." She straightened her dress and stood taller. "Alistair has demanded a divorce from me. He wishes to further weaken the backbone of our nation, and he has done all of this despite the Chantry's objections."

A collective gasp crossed the floor and Alistair struggled to take in what he was hearing. Demanded? Weaken the nation? And didn't he show her Leliana's note? The note, he slowly realized, that he had blindly handed over to her. The note that had surely been destroyed by now along with any evidence of the truth. Whispers began to travel across the once silent room as lines were quickly drawn. It had already become blatant that there was no room for grey areas in this argument. As whispers turned into murmurs and murmurs into further debates it came as no surprise to Alistair when the first blade was drawn. He hadn't heard the entirety of the thoughtless Bann's comment, but he knew it had been at Elissa's expense because Fergus turned on him with the ferocity of a dragon, and soon the entire room was at war.

OOOOOOOOOO

Elissa left the wall where she and Viola were waiting in awkward silence. She approached the doors and the guard watched her cautiously as she gently rested an ear against the wood. "Are they _fighting_ in there?"

Viola scoffed at human politics until she caught a glimpse of the guard's hand twitch toward his weapon as his beady eyes watched Elissa's back. She was quick to react once he touched the hilt and a blast of ice froze his fingers and the blade. Elissa turned at the sound of the man crying out and saw the danger she was suddenly in, but before Viola could do any more a second guard crept up behind her and bashed the back of the Inquisitor's head with the blunt end of his weapon.

And everything went black.


	18. chaos

**That You May Always Remember Me**

 **Chapter 17**

" **chaos"**

Viola wasn't sure how long she'd been out when she eventually came to, but she could vaguely make out Elissa and a guard on the other side of the room from where she lay. As her vision slowly cleared she saw the second guard unconscious on the floor, his weapon now being wielded by the Warden who was locked in fierce combat. Viola managed to raise herself onto her hands and knees and was suddenly overwhelmed by the sensation that the ground and sky had swapped places. Her lunch threatened to make a reappearance and when she was sure it would stay down and the world became a bit steadier she looked back up. The guard was hunched over in front of Elissa, her sword wedged deeply into his lower back. She pulled it out and kicked his chest so he would fall away from her and suddenly the joy of victory vanished as both women immediately noticed the dagger sticking out of Elissa's abdomen. It was mutual destruction.

Viola used every ounce of her strength to crawl over to the woman who now sat on the floor, her shaking hands clutching feebly at the penetration point. "You're going to be okay," Viola soothed, wiping the sweat off her forehead. The sound of clanging armor echoed in the hall as more guards swiftly approached and Viola realized she had never made such an empty promise.

She didn't know why the guards had attacked them or what happened during the Landsmeet, but she knew that she couldn't trust that the men approaching them now wouldn't do the same. Neither she nor Elissa were in a state to fight, so they had to get to safety. She threw one of Elissa's arms over her shoulders and dragged them both through the nearest door.

A closet. Of all the rooms and passageways in this giant castle Viola found herself in a closet with no exits. She laid Elissa on the floor and barred the door as best she could, cursing at her younger self for never bothering to learn healing spells. She remembered her Keeper desperately trying to instill some useful skill in her but all she ever wanted to do was let the fire in her veins loose. She pulled the dagger out and Elissa's weak whine was barely audible. She was losing consciousness. Holding her hands over the wound, Viola mumbled something she had barely understood the first time she learned it. Her hands began to glow as she managed to summon the magic within her but a bang at the door distracted her. Someone was trying to get in and it was only a matter of time until they succeeded. But there were no doors or windows or even an old servants' tunnel. Another bang and the door cracked under the strength of whoever was on the other side. There was only one way out that Viola could see, and although there was no guarantee of safety there, she had to take the chance. The Inquisitor ripped open the Veil and dragged Elissa into the Fade.

OOOOOOOOOO

Nobles clashed with one another, using their bare hands or the weapons they always wore to political meetings like this for 'ceremonial' purposes. "Enough!" Alistair yelled but his voice was ignored over the sounds of violence. He turned to start a fight of his own with the woman who had created all of this chaos, but caught only a glimpse of her skirt and ankle as she escaped through the western exit. Thinking quickly, he planted a strong kick on the back of Bann Ceorlic's knee and brought the man to the floor. Smiling over the fact that he'd just fulfilled a wish he'd had since first meeting Ceorlic he grabbed the sword from his hands and raced to follow his wife. "Anora!" he called after her down a long corridor The glance she sent to him wasn't nearly as evil as he'd expected but it was fleeting as she disappeared around the corner.

Before Alistair could follow her a large bald man stepped out of a room and filled the space between the king and the quickly retreating queen. Alistair recognized him immediately as a long-time lieutenant in his army. He'd been itching for a promotion for years but despite his glowing recommendations Alistair refused to approve it. While he could understand enjoying the thrill of battle, this man liked it far too much and that gave Alistair a queasy feeling in his stomach. He tried to avoid promoting men like that, but clearly Anora felt differently.

"What did she promise you?" he asked, trying to hide the crack in his voice. He would have been wary of taking on a man of this size alone in his prime; now the task seemed almost too daunting.

"General in the Queen's army," the man responded in a thick cockney accent, tightly grasping the axe he wielded.

"And the others? The Banns? Arls? Did she promise them things too?"

"Didn't bother to ask," the man shrugged and began inching toward the king. "But everyone wants something and I'm sure there are plenty of people who would be happy just to see your head on a pike." He took a heavy swing that Alistair managed to dodge and roll away. Unfortunately when the man turned to try again he found himself trapped in a corner with no path of escape.

The axe was raised high, its destination set for Alistair's skull, when suddenly Oghren came barreling into the hall. Landing with his full force into the man's waist the dwarf easily knocked him over and one bounce of the head against the stone floor put him out.

"Oghren!" Alistair exclaimed. "I didn't even know you were…"

"Yeah, yeah, you can buy me a drink and tell me how much you missed me later. Right now there's hell breaking loose in the other room. C'mon!"

With a quick look back down the corridor Alistair accepted that Anora was probably half way to the Free Marches by now and went to clean up the mess she'd left behind.

OOOOOOOOOO

The landscape was barren as Viola dragged Elissa from the portal and onto the rocky solid ground. Other than the Black City in the distance she could see nothing but floating sediment and dreamy dirt. It was a safer Fade than she'd found herself in in the past, but at the moment she needed help. She called the word loudly but it only echoed back at her. Meanwhile, Elissa was bleeding out before her. "Anyone! Help!" There was no response and Elissa's labored breathing had quieted. Suddenly the world had never felt so dark and cold…

But soon out of that darkness there came a light. It was a soft and golden ball of energy that meandered a bit as it approached, making graceful, shimmering trails behind it. It wasn't a spirit or demon as far as Viola could tell. It made her uneasy but Elissa had no options left, so the Inquisitor backed away slightly and allowed the light to get nearer to the dying woman. It twirled above her, as if examining the body in some way before making its decision and diving into her chest. Immediately Elissa's entire body began to emit that same golden light. Her skin glowed and her wound began to close, soon leaving no evidence that it had ever been there, save for the blood that still stained her clothing.

OOOOOOOOOO

After the fighting died down Alistair watched as a handful of men were arrested and led to the dungeon; a small fraction of the group who had so violently supported Anora. "This was planned," Teagan commented from his place beside the king. "They clearly knew what would happen. They even had escape routes! Who would've thought…"

"I should have. It's my job to protect Fereldan and I just threw it into chaos."

"To be fair, it looks like Anora was planning this coup regardless of what you did. Not that you didn't provide her with a nice list of reasons to present to the Bannorn."

Alistair shook his head at the mess he found himself in. "Thank you, by the way," he called when he caught sight of Oghren cleaning his blade across the room.

The dwarf grunted in response. "Saving your sorry ass again almost makes me nostalgic."

Alistair plopped down to sit on the step in front of his throne and let himself release a small chuckle. "What are you doing here anyway?"

"Fergus ran out of ale. And I figured I'd come see what was taking Elissa so long."

"What do you mean? She isn't here."

"Sure she is. She came to talk to you before…" He gestured at the debris of fighting around him. "…whatever you call this."

"But…" Alistair stuttered as his mind put the pieces together and suddenly he stood in defense. "We have to find her!"

Everyone began to scramble at the king's orders but was soon interrupted as a bright light cut through the air in the center of the room and Viola and the still unconscious Elissa tumbled out.

 **AN:** Next chapter starts Trespasser spoilers. Sorry for those who haven't played and choose not to read further, but it's great DLC and I highly recommend it. The story simply couldn't continue without that information. Thank you to all readers and sorry for the infrequent updates. Things are already written, by the way, I just suck at typing and editing.


	19. history is written by the victors

**That You May Always Remember Me**

 **Chapter 18**

" **history is written by the victors"**

Hours later, Elissa fell into what appeared to be a peaceful sleep and a hush fell over the castle. Alistair remained silently at her bedside, allowing the nobles still loyal to him to whisper bitterly over the next course of action. Even Oghren and Zevran were unusually quiet as they played a somber game of cards that failed to distract either party from their own thoughts. It was as though everyone could sense that something huge had happened but no one would acknowledge it. Viola thought it felt like a shift in the winds: indescribable but very noticeable. So when she excused herself to the gardens she wasn't surprised to find Solas waiting for her.

"What happened?" he asked, his voice more angry than concerned.

"I'm… not sure." Viola folded her arms into her chest and sat on a stone bench. "Apparently Alistair's wife held some sort of coup. Her guards attacked us. I had to take Elissa into the Fade to get her to safety…"

"The Fade?!" Solas exclaimed. "That's the last place she should have ever stepped foot!"

"Did you want me to let her die?" It bothered her when Solas didn't immediately respond.

He sighed and sat down next to her. "Why did you even come here? I warned you…"

"And I had to warn Alistair." She looked at the floor. "Not that I'm even sure what I'm warning him about…" Crinkling her nose and frowning she added hesitantly, "There was a light in the Fade. It healed her."

Solas exhaled tiredly. "And the worst case scenario has fallen upon us once again."

Viola steeled her eyes and looked up at her companion. "There's more you need to tell me, Fen'Harel." It was rare for her to let her Dalish accent through, but it felt so natural with the trickster god's name. Solas had revealed his true identity to her in the snow at Skyhold and she wanted to say that she had walked away from him right then. That hearing his lies and knowing the horrible stories surrounding the Dread Wolf filled her with rage and disgust, but the truth was he only became more fascinating to her. "I've seen Elissa in action and she can certainly hold her own, but she's still just a tiny little thing. What is it about her that has a powerful god like yourself shaking in his boots?"

"It's not her exactly," he answered, not taking his eyes off a nearby flower that had begun to bloom. "But you're right. You're far too intelligent for me to expect you to fear shadows."

Viola wasn't sure why but a compliment from Solas always seemed to mean more to her than ones from elsewhere, and she eagerly listened to his story.

OOOOOOOOOO

Elissa blinked open her eyes to meet the rays of light beaming through the window as the sun set over the city. The room was warm, smelled of fresh flowers, and next to her came the familiar sound of Alistair's snore. His chin rested against his chest as he slumped over in the chair from which he'd been watching over her for Maker only knew how long. She peeled off one of the blankets covering her own body and laid it across his lap, causing him to stir and groan.

"Stop fussing!" she commanded, straightening out the crocheted fabric.

"I'm not fussy," he mumbled in protest.

"Of course you are. Remember that time you got sick and refused to eat the soup I made for you?"

"That's because you don't know how to make soup!" His voice was clearer now as he emerged further from sleep. He stopped while rubbing his eyes and stared at her through his fingers. "Wait, you remember that?"

She nodded and readjusted her pillow "You were such a pain in the…" Her head shot up as the same realization dawned on her as well. "I remember!"

OOOOOOOOOO

"Do you remember what I told you of the Evanuris?"

"The Elven gods you locked away in the Fade?"

Solas frowned. "What a simple way to describe such a horrible time. But yes, you're correct." He sighed. "And with all of your Dalish miseducation, what do you know of the Forgotten Ones?"

Viola raised her brows as the line of questioning took a turn she hadn't been expecting. "They're the gods who were defeated and forgotten." She added ironically, "Proof that history is written by the victors, I suppose."

"You couldn't be more correct in that," Solas chuckled. "But before they were forgotten they were very much something. A threat to all of the Elvhenan. It is true the Evanuris defeated them and scratched their names from the legends but they never ceased to exist."

"So who were they before?"

"Humans."

Viola gasped. "But Elves never came into contact with humans until…"

"The fall of Arlathan?" Solas shook his head. "Another lie the people told themselves to blame their misfortunes on another. In reality the humans waged many long a terrible wars against the Elves before the Veil was created. The Evanuris eventually drove them back, earning their false godhood."

"But you said the Evanuris were dangerous. They sound like heroes to me."

"They told the people the humans had been utterly destroyed and would never return."

Viola smirked. "Well, that was obviously a mistake."

"They had been very soundly defeated but not decimated. Over time, they rebuilt and prepared for another attack, but when the Evanuris caught wind of this they disagreed on what to do. They had grown lazy, focusing more on building monuments to themselves rather than ensuring their defense. Mythal wanted to warn the people that they should ready themselves for war, but the others were afraid that once everyone realized the humans hadn't been destroyed they would stop considering them gods: perhaps even rise up in a revolution."

"The elf in the Temple of Mythal," Viola cut in quietly. "Said that Mythal was murdered."

Solas frowned. "Yes. In a desperate attempt to keep their secret they turned on the very best among them."

"But Mythal is still alive. I met her: she's Flemeth!"

"Corypheus died a few time as well, if you'll recall. Bodies are a simple thing to do away with, but souls are trickier, especially one as resilient as Mythal's. But nonetheless she was lost to us at the time and there was still the impending threat to deal with. They knew they couldn't take on the entire human army. So their best hope was to swiftly take out their leaders: the warlords who had banded together to turn the humans into the force they were. Their plan was to use their more powerful magic to turn them into mindless beasts, hoping they would attack their own kind. But it didn't' work. They managed to retain their consciousness and the humans followed them more devoutly than ever in their ferocious forms."

Viola simply stared, not knowing what to say as Solas continued. "Things quickly became… messy. So I did what I had to. What no one else would. I created the Veil and locked the Evanuris and the humans on opposite sides of it. The Evanuris would dream in the Fade and the humans would slumber underground. It took a great deal of energy, though, and I was forced to put myself into a long sleep to regain my strength."

"Beasts locked underground?" Viola chuckled, "Almost sounds like the Archdemons." Solas did not meet her gaze and her stomach dropped. "You're not saying the humans you locked away are now Archdemons? The Tevinter Old Gods?" Solas's silence answered for him. "I can't' believe this!" she exclaimed, running her fingers through her dark hair. "The Old Gods and the Forgotten Ones… are the same?" She stood and began to pace as thoughts raced through her mind before turning on her heels to face Solas again. "You're responsible for the Blights!"

"No!" Solas argued vehemently. "I have no idea how the Blights started or what created the Darkspawn. Whatever it was it all seemed to have happened while I was still asleep!"

"Still seems like a convenient way to get rid of some old enemies…" Viola rubbed her chin. "But they're not all gone, are they? Morrigan's son possessed the soul of an Old God before Flemeth…" she cleared her throat and corrected herself. "…Mythal took it."

"I fear Mythal has spent too much time alone in this world. She began to remember the past differently and went through a lot of trouble to ensure that Urthemiel would survive in her grandchild."

"Urthemiel?"

"The Dragon of Beauty… and the Archdemon of the Fifth Blight. He was a powerful mage and a skilled warrior. I'm not certain of exactly how he wound up inhabiting the body of Morrigan's son but when I met the boy at Skyhold I knew something was off. He was not fully possessed by the man I once knew. I believe whatever happened between Urthemiel and Elissa resulted in each taking a piece of the other with them. It's why I did not view Kieran as a threat. But that changed when I heard Mythal had taken the soul from him. I tried to stop her but… she'd already released it into the Fade."

"Where I took Elissa," Viola pieced the story together.

"Precisely. If Urthemiel's soul is now intact… Ma halani."

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

"Remember when we fought that Ogre that I swore was a dead ringer for one of the Chantry sisters in Redcliffe?"

"Yes," Elissa responded through a fit of giggles and Alistair squeezed her tighter, relishing in that answer. He'd managed to squeeze onto the twin size bed with her and spouted off a slew of questions about various memories that popped into his head. As the next one dawned on him he grinned devilishly. "Remember that time on the shores of Lake Calenhad?"

"Alistair!" she exclaimed, as her face turned bright pink.

"What? I was recalling a lovely picnic! Why is it your mind always goes straight to the steamy bits?"

"Yes, my mind is the problem," she mumbled as her face paled and she rested her chin on his chest.

He stroked her hair gently and his voice grew shaky as he finally asked the most important question. "Do you remember…?"

"I remember being on top of Fort Drakon." Elissa could feel Alistair's sharp intake of breath and closed her eyes as that fateful day returned to the forefront of her mind.

"You don't have to if it's too hard…"

"No, it's not that I can't remember it's just… I can't quite tell where one thought ends and another begins. There was the final blow and then… then I think I was floating. Or at least I wasn't standing on solid ground. But the Archdemon kept fighting me, like he was trying to consume me entirely."

Alistair nodded. "Archdemons try to possess the nearest blighted thing. It's why only Grey Wardens can kill them… but they usually die in the process."

"Something distracted it; something in the city. I think… it may have been Morrigan's baby."

"Ah," Alistair released breathlessly. "So it worked then?" An awkward chuckle trailed on the conversation he never wanted to have with anyone.

Elissa didn't laugh, though. "I'm not sure it worked quickly enough. I think something had already started to happen… When Urthemiel got ripped away I think he may have taken a part of me with him."

"Your memories?"

"I believe so."

"So how did you get them back?"

"When Viola took me into the Fade I sort of… reconnected with them." She finally raised her head to meet his amber eyes. "I'm sorry I don't understand any more of this."

He was quiet for a moment, thinking over these new facts. Elissa's heart stopped briefly before he looked down at her and a smile broke across his face. "I'm just happy to have you back."

He pulled her up and kissed her passionately. She laid her head in the crook of his neck while he wrapped his arms around her tightly. She frowned while she knew he couldn't see her face as thoughts and memories continued to race through her mind and worried that that day on Fort Drakon would not be so easily put behind them.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

"So let's say I believe all of this – Elissa is possessed by the Old God she killed. Sure. But what does that even mean? Did Elissa die 10 years ago? Is there any part of her still left?"

"Whatever happened during the Fifth Blight saved her life just as much as Urthemiel's. They're simply sharing a physical form right now."

Viola's lips formed into a frown as she considered Solas in a way she never had before. "Like you?"

"Yes."

"What's that like?"

Solas lifted his chest and closed his eyes calmly. "It starts as a whisper; just barely audible past the storm of unconscious thought. But it gets louder and stronger until..." He opened his eyes suddenly, a fleeting expression of sadness quickly covered by stoic serenity. "Your will is no longer your own. That is why this is so important. Whoever Elissa is or was will not matter soon. When Urthemiel takes control, with his full power, we will be dealing a monster that is hell bent on destroying everything I saved."

"Is there a way to separate them before that happens?"

A shadow crossed Solas' face. "There may be, but it would require preparation. In the meantime you must stay with Elissa and ensure she does not become a danger. She may not understand everything that's happened to her."

"And Alistair?"

"I'll leave it to you to decide whether to tell him any of this. I do not know the man or how he might react." Viola nodded hesitantly and Solas put a hand on her arm. "I'll be in touch." He placed a cold kiss on her cheek and before she could turn to watch him leave he was gone.


End file.
